Sacrifice: Revisited
by Echo Dancer
Summary: At what price freedom? Warren faces a trial of spirit that shakes him to his very core when alien conquerors claim Earth. First book in novel series. Revamping of original 2009 "Sacrifice." Archangel/OC. WARNING: Mature Subject Matter / details inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome Warren Worthington/Angel/Archangel fans! There seems to be too few of us out there, so we must stick together, right? For my fellow Warren fans, I offer up a retelling of an older story of mine – a new and improved version. Please, read on to learn more…**

**SACRIFICE: Revisited**

**First Book in Series of Four (thus far) Novels: **"Sacrifice," "Esserru," "Circle Complete," and "Soulbound"

**Author: **Echo Dancer

**Marvel Universe:** Mainstream Continuity, Uncanny X-men comics

**Marvel Characters:** Warren Worthington/Archangel, Professor Charles Xavier (minor role), Shi'ar Empress Lilandra (minor role)

**Primary Original Characters: **Emperor Ztar of the Turzent Empire, Sukja (Ztar's personal attendant)

**Synopsis:** At what price freedom? Warren faces a trial of spirit that shakes him to his very core when alien conquerors claim Earth. First book in novel series. Revamping of original 2009 "Sacrifice."

**Warnings:** Contains ADULT THEMES and situations. The story deals with male-on-male rape and those scenes are depicted (though not too graphically). If this will disturb you, do NOT read. _Sacrifice_ is not an action story, but instead explores the emotional toll of a horrible situation and the survival / triumph of spirit.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that Marvel Comics does and will never make any money from the use of their characters – only borrowing their property for a while for my own amusement. However, I do own Ztar, Sukja, all other characters and settings. All rights reserved on my property.

**Helpful Reading Notes:**

1. Anything that appears thusly / _italic text between slashes _/ is telepathic communication.

2. Almost always, text within 'single quotes' are character thoughts.

3. Canon timing: _Sacrifice_ is set after Warren has reverted back to his natural form from the steel-winged metamorphosis Apocalypse put him through, but before his is able to switch back and forth between his steel-winged persona and feathered wing form.

**###**

**Preface and Acknowledgements**

The more we perform a task, the better we do…as true in writing as in any other endeavor. Such is the case with my writing, or so I wish to believe. Four novels later, and I feel I've grown both as a storyteller and in technical skills.

When I reviewed my first posting of _Sacrifice_ after completing the fourth book in the series, I literally cringed. Oh, the mistakes! And the sequences that needed something more, areas that simply needed a good editing, and the list went on. I couldn't bear to leave it as was. The characters deserved better.

So I decided to revamp _Sacrifice_. While I did not scrap the story and rewrite it, I have refined and enhanced Warren's tale. I won't promise there still isn't an occasional error or more that I could have improved, but it is a better telling than the old version. At least that is the hope.

I will not be taking down the original posted version and thus the modification of the title. The old story redirects new readers here. And all those kind people who have me on alert may find this rewrite a worthwhile reread.

_Sacrifice: Revisited_ is dedicated to Louisestarfly and Mad Furry Cheshire Cat, both of whom I met through this website, share my fascination with a certain winged character, and I am blessed to call friends. They have given me constant encouragement to keep on writing and have inspired me with their own written works.

_**And remember, an author's greatest joy is reviews, so please share your thoughts. **_

Without further ado, I present my "new and improved" story of Warren's trial of spirit.

x x x x x

**SACRIFICE: Revisited**

**Prologue**

The Shi'ar Empress received a desperate call for help from Charles Xavier. Such a call meant the situation had to be dire. Charles and his X-men could handle just about anything, but apparently a full-scale invasion of the Earth System by an alien fleet was more than they could deal with on their own.

As the Shi'ar Empress gathered her resources and headed to Earth, Xavier carefully monitored the approaching alien vessels using Cerebro. More than generalities were lost to Xavier by the sheer distance between him and the aliens he was reading. One of the vessels proved impenetrable by his mind – likely psychic dampeners were employed. But what he continued to pick up from the aliens on the other vessels was that this was not a social visit. They fully intended to take the Earth System for their own, whether by choice or by force. The aliens appeared in no hurry, which would hopefully give Empress Lilandra time to use the wormhole and reach Earth with assistance before the invaders took aggressive action.

Over the next several days, events unfolded quickly. The Shi'ar arrived just as the aliens, known as the Turzents, had settled into orbit around Earth. Xavier was disappointed that Lilandra came with only her Imperial cruiser and two escort ships. Hardly the show of force he had imagined.

Opening communications with the Turzents, the Shi'ar explained Earth's request for assistance. Perhaps diplomatic channels could be established?

Xavier sensed only piqued interest from the Turzents at the Shi'ar interceding on Earth's behalf. They did not react with fear or trepidation as he had hoped. The Turzents seemed merely intrigued that the small, pre FTL world had allies such as the Shi'ar.

Through Lilandra and her negotiators, Xavier learned that the invaders had earlier laid claim to the sector of space containing Earth. The actual takeover was just the final step in fully integrating the Earth System into their empire. He was told that pre-FTL civilizations were sometimes aware of their assimilation into Turzent territory, and other times not. In Earth's case, the Turzent Emperor had decided the planet would be in the former group.

The Shi'ar negotiators determined that something specific about Earth had caught the attention of the Emperor himself. Just what that was, their diplomats weren't sharing. The Shi'ar also felt that the Turzents wanted an excuse to interact with the Shi'ar, to learn more about them. That was good – it provided a reason for the Turzents to sit at the negotiating table when otherwise they seemed to have little interest in doing so.

Formal talks were scheduled aboard the Turzent Imperial cruiser. As a subjugated non-FTL world, the Turzents would not allow any Humans at the negotiating table, but they would allow the Shi'ar to represent Earth and Earth would be bound by whatever the Shi'ar agreed to on its behalf. The Emperor would permit a small contingent from Earth to accompany the Shi'ar diplomats, but the Humans would remain confined in a highly secure area anytime they were on board the imperial cruiser.

With the rules of the negotiations established, talks began. At first, the Turzents were unwilling to give on any front. Earth was simply already theirs. Humans did not possess the ability to wage a successful war for independence, so by default, the planet was part of their empire.

The Shi'ar implied military assistance to defend their protectorate, but the Turzents weren't buying. It baffled the Shi'ar diplomats that the Turzent negotiators appeared unfazed by the inference. Were they really so self-confident that a threat from the vast Shi'ar Empire had no affect?

At every turn, with every suggested compromise, the Turzents responded with indifference or polite refusal. After two full days of talks, Lilandra's negotiators could win no points and the talks were quickly becoming meaningless.

Something changed during the third day and the Turzents changed their stance. Suddenly, they were ready to discuss options. On demand of their diplomats, the negotiating team was sequestered on the Turzent ship with no outside communications allowed, not back to the Shi'ar ship, or to the waiting world leaders on Earth, nor with the Human contingent.

The basis for an agreement was hammered out quickly. By the morning of fifth day, the Turzents presented a written document ready to be signed. In the Turzent/Earth Accord, Earth would remain completely autonomous from the Empire. The Empire would not interfere with Earth internal affairs. There would be no Turzent presence on Earth. The star system would be a military restricted, non-interference zone.

And still no explanation for the change in position. Their negotiators had asked for very little, except one small demand – just one thing their emperor wanted in exchange for Earth's freedom, without which the system would be wholly and completely subjugated. Earth would lose all independence and suffer Turzent occupation unless that single term was met.

In the eyes of the Shi'ar negotiators, the price was incredibly small. It would be foolish to turn aside the Accord by refusing the one, simple concession.

###

**Chapter 1**

Xavier was stunned silent. His hands shook in anger as he held the computer pad in a tight grip. Carefully, he reread the shocking paragraphs in the translated document to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. Looking up at Lilandra who stood beside his chair, she responded to the question he hadn't yet asked.

Lilandra placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I am uncertain as to why that specific demand, and the Turzent team is not elaborating, but this is their final offer. Even if Earth submits willingly to the Empire, the price remains the same for _autonomy_. They are unyielding on that."

"_NO!_ I will not surrender an X-man to the Turzents! I will sacrifice _no_ Human – not like this. Do you really expect me to simply hand them Warren?" Charles Xavier was angry beyond rage. "To what purpose? What are their intentions? This I cannot – _will_ not agree to!" he yelled, throwing the handheld device to the table.

"The agreement ensures the autonomy of your _planet_, Charles. Though we could not negotiate keeping Earth outside of the Turzent Empire, we did secure its independence, its right to self-govern. That was no small feat! With this agreement, there will be no contact with the Turzent government, no interference." Lilandra pulled a chair from the table and seated herself in front of Xavier. She looked him in the eyes in an attempt to re establish a rapport.

"Your people never need to know how close they came to domination." She let that settle for a few moments. "Being within the Turzent Empire will have its advantages. Earth gains Turzent protection against any outside threats. Despite the personal price, the treaty is a good one, Charles."

"It's for that protection we have maintained diplomatic ties with you and _your_ government, Lilandra," Charles retorted with acid.

"If only my government truly felt a desire to protect your world. Sadly, after my reign is over, I cannot guarantee that protection will continue. You see no military here to aid you now, Charles. No show of force. My people have little reason to expend resources this far from home. Only through my personal authority has that been the case in the past. But my time will pass and Earth will be without a guardian." Again, Lilandra allowed Charles time to absorb her words.

"If I step outside myself and look at the agreement with pure logic, I would agree with you. This is the best outcome one could negotiate – actually, better than one would have any reason to expect given the circumstances. But I cannot reconcile the morality."

"So you refuse the offer – at what price? I have already told you the Shi'ar will likely not intercede militarily on Earth's behalf. Earth does not have the technology or depth of resources to ward off the Turzents for more than a few days, even with the help of your mutant heroes. And if you chose to fight, what would the cost be in Human lives and suffering? In the end, your planet still falls to them, yet another conquest for their Emperor. Easy, little resources expended…an incident that barely registers in their historical records. Your race is subjugated with little hope for its future. Is that the outcome you desire?"

Charles shook his head, "Of course not. There must be another price the Turzents are willing to accept. Something else they desire…"

"We have explored those options. At this point, my advisors and I don't believe it's what the Turzent _Empire_ wants; this is something Emperor Ztar _himself_ wants. Otherwise, it makes no sense."

Xavier refused to believe there were no other options – there are always options, even if you have to create them yourself.

"What is Ztar gaining personally? I don't like the places that line of thinking takes me. We need to find out exactly what he gains and use it to our advantage."

"I'm sorry, Charles, but there is no time. The Turzents gave us a strict deadline to either accept or decline the offer. We believe they have discovered or surmised the lack of Shi'ar will to defend your world." Lilandra's voice soften once again and Charles stiffened. "As your representative, you entrusted Earth's future to me. The treaty has already been signed." Lilandra said, drawing a breath.

Xavier looked with disbelief at the alien woman in whose hands they had placed Humankind's future. How could she have agreed without consulting him? How could she believe the Accord was _acceptable?_ Her betrayal would not stand! His anger boiled over and his body shuddered. He would cut her down with one mental blow for the outrage! In that uncontrolled moment, Xavier might have acted on his impulse if not for the psychic dampeners on the Turzent cruiser.

Charles stared coldly at Lilandra with a rage she had not seen before. She pulled back from the intensity.

"_How_ could you have made that decision without consulting me? This is _Warren_ we're talking about – a Human being! Not some piece of- of _property!_"

Lilandra leaned closer despite Xavier's threatening demeanor. "Charles, I know what Warren means to you. He was one of your first chosen and he is like a son to you. You love him as a parent loves a child. You have been through much together. He is also your friend. Warren is, in a way, more special to you than most of the others…so strong in spirit, yet gentle in nature. One of your X-men with the least power, but with more strength and courage than most. All these things I _know_, Charles." As she spoke, she watched Xavier closely. She took Charles' hand into hers. He resisted at first, then let her hold it.

"That is why I could not burden you with choosing. The pain will be nearly unbearable as it is – it would have _destroyed_ you if the choice had been yours. Because in the end, I know you would have chosen to save your world. And I believe Warren would do the same. One life in exchange for millions – Warren would choose this."

He closed his eyes to blot her out; to calm himself. Charles was far too experienced with seemingly hopeless, unjustifiable circumstances to continue to feed the anger – it served no purpose. 'Emotionally, you're out of control, Charles,' he told himself. 'Get a grip!'

The Empress in front of him had helped them numerous times. They shared a permanent psychic connection. He knew her – trusted her. Or at least _had_ trusted her. He fought to reconcile what she had just done to all she had done before; all they had been through together. In his mind, he used the scales to weigh her previous actions and intentions against the Accord decision. Those scales still tipped in her favor.

He remained silent for a long while and Lilandra allowed him the time. She understood him well and knew that he was working to regain control and review the situation from a more detached perspective. Only when she saw his features soften and his shoulders sag, did she speak.

"Charles," her voice was gentle, caring. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. "This I would not have agreed to had there been any other option. You _must_ know that. The Turzents pushed, we stepped back for the good of your people. You may never forgive me, but I hope in time you will come to understand that what we did was for the sake of your world and its future. This is the _very best_ we could secure on your behalf."

"There were no alternatives?" His voice nearly a whisper.

"None, Charles."

"The deal is air-tight? The Earth is safe?"

"Yes. My negotiators are very skilled. The Accord has no vacuities the Turzents can exploit."

Charles was still for a moment, then slammed his fist against the table top so fiercely that Lilandra feared he may have broken bones. "_Damn_ it, Lilandra. This isn't right! This is _immoral!_" She only nodded. She did not have to say that in war and conquest, there is very little morality – Charles Xavier knew that all too well.

He looked at her and a tear unashamedly ran down his face. She was right. In the end, Charles would have made the decision to save Earth even with a price so high. And likewise, given no option, he truly believed Warren would sacrifice himself as well.

"Warren has already been through too much. Why couldn't it have been someone else?" Xavier didn't expect an answer. Lilandra laid her hand over his fist still resting on the table. His voice was shaky when he asked, "How do I tell him? What can I _say?_"

The Shi'ar and Turzents understood the situation would be explosive if the X-men were still on board when they heard the news. Measures had already been taken to ensure that would not happen. Lilandra had asked that Charles remain behind so she could inform him personally. He would not hear the devastating news from anyone else – she owed him that.

"Your X-men are already on their way back to Earth, Charles. They were separated from Archangel under false pretenses to avoid any confrontations and do not yet know the treaty has been signed. The Turzents demanded you have no further contact with Warren. It is done." She said with finality. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. My heart bleeds for you and Warren today."

Their eyes met once again and he knew without a telepathic connection that she spoke truthfully. Then the powerful, reserved Charles Xavier cried in Empress's arms.

###

After waiting impatiently for some time in a small room with two Turzent escorts, word came that Xavier was available to meet. The trio traversed several corridors before stopping in front of an entrance flanked by guards. One sentry activated the door to what appeared to be a large conference room. Once inside, the door slid shut silently behind them. The room fell instantly silent, sending a flutter through Warren's gut. Several armed Shi'ar guards stood at the far end. Two more flanked either side of the door they just came through. He recognized the stun guns the Shi'ar guards carried – probably the only weapons the Turzent would allow them to carry on board. But then again, why guns and Shi'ar guards at all?

In the center of the space, two male Turzents and a female and male Shi'ar, all in formal attire gathered. 'Negotiators?' Warren wondered. However, the person he had expected to see was not there.

"Where's Xavier?"

His escorts remained silent, only indicating with a gesture that he should continue toward the foursome. Once near the Turzent and Shi'ar, the escorts addressed the Shi'ar pair. "As you requested," and they melted away behind Warren.

'This doesn't feel right,' Warren thought. A tiny, unconscious flick of wings was the only outward sign he sensed trouble. A sign his fellow X-men would have picked up on was lost on the aliens.

"Where is Charles Xavier? I was told he wanted to see me."

The poker face of the Shi'ar in front of him furthered Warren's unease.

"Actually, it was I that wanted to see you. I am Charize, Imperial Negotiator for Empress Lilandra." Looking toward his companion, Charize continued. "This is Arizai, my aide. I am to inform you that the treaty between the Earth System and the Turzent Empire has been signed."

Warren was taken aback. "Already?"

He thought the negotiations would require much more time, maybe weeks. As head of a large corporation, he understood the minutia that goes into deal making. And why tell him away from the others? Or were they all being told separately because the news was not good. X-men can be 'difficult' when things don't go their way. Warren smiled inwardly at that thought. But separated, they could be better controlled, or at least more easily contained. Pity the poor group that got Wolverine!

"The initial negotiations were stalled, but we eventually brokered an agreement that was workable," Charize offered. "Earth remains independent. There will be no interference from the Turzent Empire in your internal affairs. Your star system continues to be within the boundaries of their empire, but your planet is free and self-governed."

Despite the stoic face, Charize seemed uneasy. Warren cocked his head, "This is good news, right?" But the nonverbal signals he was picking up indicated the other proverbial shoe was about to drop.

"Yes, it is _very_ good news. A better outcome than we had expected. Your homeworld is safe, or as safe as any in an uncertain galaxy. Your people are free to continue as before with complete autonomy," the Shi'ar proclaimed with a hint of pride.

"So Earth merrily goes on its way, as if this whole thing never happened?" Warren wanted to be sure he got it right.

The negotiator affirmed, "That is a correct summation of the Accord."

A sinking feeling in the pit of Warren's stomach grew and he had to ask. "What was the _price_ for this freedom?"

Warren studied the Shi'ars carefully as they seem to gather themselves. Their pause gave Warren a few seconds to recheck his surroundings. He steadied himself to not reveal that he knew the Shi'ar guards were no longer at the far end, but had drifted closer. Behind him, he also sensed that the exit door was blocked. The Turzents in formal dress had edged to the far end of the room.

Charize let out a Human-like sigh. "Sadly, in all negotiations concessions are made to ensure ultimate success. Our negotiations on behalf of your planet were no different. But in this case, there were only two concessions on our side: that Earth remains within Turzent Empire and…" Charize hesitated, taking in a breath, "and you." Then he and his aide took a slight step backward and watched the Human closely. The Shi'ar guards drew closer.

Warren wasn't sure he heard right. Two concessions – Earth still sits inside the Turzent Empire and _him?_ 'Don't panic,' he reminded himself. Verify first. But his stomach was already lurching.

He looked Charize in the eyes. "Say that again."

"I deeply regret…there were no other viable options. The Turzent Emperor was firm – you are to go with them." The Shi'ar negotiator's expression showed visible distress. That the negotiator felt distress over their _concession_ was of little comfort if Warren understood correctly.

"Are you telling me that the X-men are part of the _bargain?_"

Charize shook his head. "Not the X-men. You." Warren's world shifted so violently he thought he might lose balance. "Please understand, it was that or your planet would fall. You must go with their Emperor."

All of the heightened senses of Archangel, all the years of training as an X-man, mental and physical, all his survival instincts sprang up. The guards next to him could likely be taken out with a single wing swipe and a semi-aerial maneuver would bring down the guards behind him in front of the door, all before these aliens knew what hit them. He wouldn't waste precious moments grabbing a stun gun from the Shi'ar guards. The Turzents outside the meeting room had bigger, and Warren assumed, more powerful weapons. He'd disarm those guards and then take whatever obstacles came his way until he could locate an escape route – or the other X men. And if the door was locked…well, options came to mind under that scenario, too.

Charize guessed what was going through the Human's mind. "Archangel, you must not resist or the Earth goes to the Turzents. Be calm, I beg you!" he raised his voice to cut through the adrenaline Charize knew was coursing through the mutant's veins.

Archangel heard the words and knew he understood the situation all too clearly. He was being handed over to the Turzents. Flashes of Apocalypse raced through his mind. Remembered horrors of that lab drove near panic to his core. He would not let that happen again – he would _die_ first!

He snapped open his powerful wings hard and fast hitting the guards on either side of him, the impact felling them in opposite directions. In the same motion, he sprang into the air and in a backward somersault maneuver and nailed the two guards by the exit door with his feet.

"Archangel – you jeopardize the treaty! Please, you must calm down!"

Archangel dimly heard Charize's pleas simultaneously with the soft click of weaponry from the remaining guards. Before his feet hit the floor, his hand was on the control panel for the door. But it didn't open. 'Locked!' his mind screamed.

Propelling himself into the air, he closed the distance between himself and Charize so fast none of the guards got off a shot. He had the negotiator of the concession by the throat in a blink of an eye. Positioning Charize between him and everyone else in the room, Archangel held tight to his hostage.

Turzent and Shi'ar alike stood motionless and silent.

"Open that fucking door _now!_" Archangel yelled at the guards.

They did not respond. A glance between Charize and his aide signaled a delegation of authority. Arizai knew that Charize was in no real danger. Shi'ar are several times stronger than Humans and he could wrest himself free from Archangel's chokehold at any time. But Arizai and Clarice had anticipated the possible sequence of events. Right then, Archangel needed to feel some sort of control over the situation before he would listen and comprehend. If he remained in fight or flight mentality, words would do no good and Archangel could be injured – something the Turzent Emperor strictly forbade.

"Mr. Worthington," Arizai started, hoping to begin shifting him out of Archangel mode. "You don't yet understand the consequences of your actions. You must listen to me. No one is going to hurt you or approach you. No one outside this room knows what is transpiring here. This is between us." She waited for him to process the information.

"I've just been bargained over to the enemy. What don't I understand? _Open the goddamn door!_"

"The treaty states that Earth's freedom is maintained only as long as _you_ comply with the terms. If you do not, Earth becomes a Turzent-occupied world." She let that settle.

Her monotone voice riled him. It was his _life_ they bargained away. His life was a fucking _concession_. She was acting…they were all acting… like they had been asked only to turn over chattel. A flood of emotions churned along side the physical reaction to danger. It nearly staggered him. He fought the adrenaline surge to stay focused, even as his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"The price of Earth's freedom is you," she said gently, but clearly. "Submit to their Emperor's demands and the Earth remains autonomous. Any disobedience, escape, rescue, or suicide by you voids the agreement and Earth falls immediately under Turzent control." Arizai allowed several seconds to pass before continuing – Archangel needed the time to absorb her words. "Their Emperor will show Humans no mercy in his occupation of your planet if you do not comply. There is no recourse available to you. The Accord is signed and it is without flaw. The choice – _your_ choice – is to comply or Earth is lost. The consequence of your actions is no less than the fate of your homeworld, Mr. Worthington. Do you understand?" Arizai delivered the words calmly, without emotion, hoping to bring the man to his senses quickly. They were to prepare the Human, but not keep Ztar waiting long.

Archangel sucked in air. The room was too small – he couldn't breathe. His mind spun out of control, but he managed to grab one coherent thought. "Where are the X-men and the Professor?"

"Mr. Worthington, your friends are safely on their way to Earth as we speak. Charles Xavier is on a shuttle to the Shi'ar cruiser. He, too, is safe. They are in no danger."

"They wouldn't leave me here – you're lying!" Archangel believed that with every fiber of his being. Nothing would stand in the way of his friends protecting him. No treaty. No Turzent Emperor. No Shi'ar traitors. He tightened his arm around Charize's neck for emphasis.

Arizai knew Emperor Ztar wanted the process to go quickly, yet if it was to happen without Archangel being stunned by the guards' weapons or worse, it may take a little extra time. They needed Archangel to fully understand and accept his situation before being turned over or all may be lost.

She exhaled, and then responded. "They would not leave you, that is true. That is why your friends do not know about you or that the treaty has been signed. Xavier is only being informed now."

"They're off-ship?" His heart nearly stopped.

"Yes. Safe, for now. As long as you do as we say, Mr. Worthington. If you do not, I cannot guarantee their safety…or your planet's…" she let her voice trail off.

Archangel refused to believe the aliens. The X-men would know something was up. Xavier, despite the Turzent ship's psychic dampeners, would sense _something_ – wouldn't he?

"I want to talk with the Professor – _now!_"

Arizai almost said 'not possible,' but caught herself. If the Shi'ar Empress had done her job, Xavier was already fully briefed on the situation and persuaded that the exchange was the only option open to Earth. "Let me see what I can do, Mr. Worthington."

He watched as Arizai walked over to the two Turzents he assumed were negotiators or bureaucrats. It made sense that she would approach them as she would need their assistance to contact Xavier. He watched everyone in the room for any sudden movements or suspicious actions – he prided himself on reading body language. Nothing he saw suggested plotting to free Charize. That steadied him.

Arizai quietly conferred with the Turzents and all agreed the scenario had been anticipated, along with several other possibilities. A quick comm call to central communications linked the Turzent conference room to Empress Lilandra's shuttle. Central communications quickly confirmed with the Empress' aide that indeed Lilandra and Xavier had finished their meeting and Xavier understood the position his planet was in without the cooperation of Archangel. In less than three minutes, a comlink was in place.

Three minutes is an eternity when you've been given a death sentence, or at least that was how Archangel viewed it. What did the Turzents want with him? Genetic experiments? Slice and dice him to create their own superbeings? Why him? Other X men were far more powerful.

He didn't believe the others were safe or that they hadn't suspected something was up. In Wolverine's instincts alone he would plant that belief. It made more sense that they split up the X-men to have a better chance at containing them and they were all being turned over to the Turzents. A treaty to ensure the future of Earth that sacrificed a few mutants – what leaders on Earth would strongly object to that? A small price, they'd say.

Archangel checked in with himself physically. The longer he thought; the longer he waited on Arizai, the less his adrenaline pumped. Coming down from an intense adrenaline high can be debilitating. He had to remain at peak as long as possible to have any chance against his captors. Archangel needed to stay very angry.

He didn't fool himself about the odds of escape from the Turzent cruiser. According to intelligence reports the Shi'ar shared with the X-men, the Turzents were physically powerful, extremely intelligent, and cunning. Their technology rivaled the Shi'ar's. No, if Archangel was to regain his freedom, it would most likely come about only with help from others. He needed his friends!

'_Damn_, what is taking so long!' he yelled in his head. "I'm tired of waiting. This ends now." Archangel snarled at the Shi'ar and Turzent officials huddled around what was obviously a communication panel.

Arizai turned to face Archangel. "We have established a link with the Empress' shuttle. We are just waiting for Mr. Xavier to arrive at their conference room."

'Good,' Archangel said to himself. 'At if it's not really the Professor, I'm doing my best to break this bastard's neck regardless of the consequences.'

###

On the Shi'ar shuttle, Xavier was numb. "Lilandra, what you ask is more than I can do. I have already given up someone more dear to me than life itself. Now you ask that I command him to stand down and submit to his captors?"

Lilandra held Charles' shaking hand. Seeing and sensing his pain was almost more than she could bear. "My dear Charles. This is cruel beyond imaging, but Warren needs to go quietly with the Turzents. He must understand what is at stake. Right now, he will listen only to you – believe only you. He will do as you command…what must be done." Her voice was barely above a whisper at the end. She was quiet for several moments while Charles gathered himself. "I'll be here, at your side. Let me lend you my strength," she offered, squeezing his hand tightly.

Charles mentally attempted to separate emotionally from the situation, to somehow detach. The next minutes would be one of, if not the most difficult point in his life. But Charles fully understood the price of failure was the home of 6.5 billion Humans. You do not give in to unchecked emotions or focus on the personal cost at such defining moments. You do what must be done. He straightened himself in his chair.

Lilandra watched her one-time royal consort prepare and she was more proud of him that day than ever before. And more heart sick and ashamed than she had been in a very long time.

"I am ready," he said without emotion.

###

The view panel in the Turzent meeting room came to life. Xavier's face filled the screen. "Warren?"

"Professor, what the hell is going on? Where are you? Where are the X-men? You won't believe the bull they're feeding me about the treaty and…and about _me!_" Archangel's anger resurged as he demanded answers.

"W-warren…" Charles' voice faltered.

Archangel picked up on it immediately. He had known the elder man since he was a teenager. Something was desperately wrong. "Professor, what's going on?"

"Warren, please let Charize go. You'll gain nothing by holding him hostage." Charles knew Warren likely couldn't seriously hurt the Shi'ar negotiator without a weapon. He also surmised that Warren knew he could do no serious harm to a being several times stronger and tougher than himself. It was an act of desperation that the Shi'ar were obviously willing to tolerate.

"Not until I have some answers!" he continued to watch the image closely, to determine if it was Xavier or trickery.

"Very well."

Lilandra watched Xavier's hands hold the chair arms in a death grip, but his face was soft without a hint of the anguish she knew he was enduring.

Xavier continued. "I am in a shuttle getting ready to dock with the Shi'ar Imperial cruiser. I am free and unharmed. The rest of the X-men are already at the mansion, also free and unharmed. They have been told that I will be joining them soon as the negotiations have stalled and everyone is taking a break before trying again."

"They wouldn't leave without me," he challenged.

"They believe you to be with me, Warren. They are uncertain as to why I requested your presence, but they trust the Shi'ar because I do and that's what the Shi'ar told them. Once we-"

"_You_ wouldn't leave me!" Archangel was realizing the image truly was Xavier – everything about him read right. That realization drove horror deeper.

Xavier nearly crumbled under the words. For a moment, he almost surrendered a world to save one man. But in true Xavier form, he pushed aside emotions to do what he must.

"I would not _willing_ leave you, Warren. You are like a s-son to me. I would give my own life…" 

Lilandra saw Charles' tight control loosen. The conversation must end quickly for everyone's sake. "Charles," she whispered, "the treaty." She watched as Xavier fought for self-control.

"Warren, there is no other way to say this that will make it easier. The situation is as the Shi'ar have told you."

"You don't know _what_ they've told me – you're not _here!_" Archangel cried. His world had begun to crumble; shattering in slow motion.

Xavier braced himself to speak the most agonizing words he would ever utter. "Warren, you must go with the Turzents. If you do not, the Earth loses its freedom and the Turzents will rule."

"_No!_" Archangel shoved Charize aside and took several steps toward the viewscreen on the wall. The others in the room melted to the sides. "It's not true! It c-can't b-be!" He voice cracked as he shouted in numbing disbelief. The room fell away and the world became only Xavier's image and voice.

"I'm so sorry – it's out of our hands. There's nothing we can do to help you. If we try-" Charles voice broke, he choked and swallowed, a tear running down his cheek.

Archangel had watched Xavier with intense desperation, looking for any sign, any hope that it was not the man who was a second father, but when Xavier started to break down, he knew it was truly Xavier. His last hope evaporated. Legs giving out, he sank to the floor, looking up at the screen. "_Professor_…" he pleaded.

Lilandra wasn't sure if Charles would be able to continue. His strength once again amazed her as he gathered himself for the sake of a planet.

"Archangel!" Charles said sternly. Lilandra knew by the change in how he addressed Warren what was coming next – and it would be a blade through the heart of the X-man.

Xavier's voice was like steel as he continued. "Archangel, you will go _quietly_ with the Turzents. You will not attempt to escape, nor will there be any attempt by the X-men to rescue you. You will do as you are ordered by their Emperor." Each command Xavier uttered brought more horror to Archangel's face. "You will not attempt to harm any Turzent. You will not bring harm to yourself. You will do this for the sake of mankind."

Reality shattered around him and the Archangel persona melted away – only Warren remained. The man on the screen had practically raised him from a teenager, trained him to be an X-man, and fought at his side. They'd been to hell and back together more times than Warren could count. Yet the man he considered a mentor, a friend, and confidante, just told him to go quietly with the enemy.

He searched Xavier's image for any hidden messages or any hint he was trying to convey, but found none. All the signs said the usually impassive man was on the verge of completely breaking down. It took an enormous blow to bring Xavier to that point. It meant one thing…the X-men were truly abandoning him to the aliens.

"_No-o_, Professor! I can-n't…I…this doesn't make sense…this-. There must be something else…_Please!_" Warren begged, his body quaking under a cascade of emotions.

"You have your orders." It was Xavier's last strength. He could say no more.

Charles could only watch in anguish as the younger mutant struggled to digest the situation. He longed to grab Warren, hold him tight, to protect and comfort him; to tell him with those words, Charles Xavier, one of the most powerful mutants on Earth, just died inside.

But not before he fatally mindblasted every Turzent on the ship! Rage and horror resurged to the surface as he watched Warren's head bow to the floor and the wings fold tightly around him protectively. Shame for the betrayal followed instantly on fury's heels to nearly crush him.

Lilandra knew Xavier could endure or do no more – further contact would simply prolong the agony. She pressed the control on the viewer console to end the link and then drew Charles into her arms.

At first, Charles fought Lilandra's embrace – her people bartered the atrocity. But then, he reminded himself, they also had saved his planet from hostile occupation. He allowed the Empress to hold him.

###

There comes a point when too much is too much. Combined memories of the atrocities he endured at the hands of Apocalypse, an inability to find a reason for his sudden subjugation, Xavier's betrayal, and the future of Earth resting on cooperation with his captors…he was overwhelmed. With neither fight nor flight available, Warren was trapped within a growing nightmare. The mind deals with the unimaginable as best it can…it detaches, giving the individual the ability to cope. As detachment took hold, everything became surreal, as if it was happening to someone else and Warren was watching from the outside.

The aliens had remained still during the exchange with Xavier. Charize and Arizai watched as Archangel remained quietly on the floor, his head down. While he was visibly trembling, he did seem to be calming – hopefully, for the right reasons. No one dared yet move. The Human needed to time collect himself, time the skilled negotiators were willing to give if it would help make the next step easier. Finally, Archangel righted himself, still holding the wings tight to his body.

'Another few seconds…' Arizai told herself. She was rewarded for her patience.

'Do what they want…for now,' Warren told himself with eerie calmness. On unsteady legs, he got to his feet, sought out Arizai's face, and locked eyes. "Now what?' Warren asked dully.

"Now we go see the Emperor," she answered flatly.

###

Ztar was nearly out of patience. It was taking too long. He wanted to get out of the backwater star system, away from the prying eyes of the Shi'ar, and be done with it. He had learned much about the Shi'ar and was finished. Give him his prize and move on!

The Earth business had started months ago when Ztar read a scout report about an insignificant star system outside of Turzent space with a single populated planet. What piqued Ztar's interest, though, was the report of super-powered beings – genetic mutations – that apparently occurred naturally; not created through scientific manipulation. Now _that_ was interesting!

In the weeks that followed, Ztar ordered further stealth investigations of the planet. Everything he learned intrigued him. The world would be worth adding to his Empire.

In the last few days, Ztar was even more impressed with the less advanced planet when they summoned the intergalactic Shi'ar to their side. The insignificant world grew more intriguing with every passing day, strengthening Ztar's resolve to not abnegate Earth.

Because his ship's psychic dampeners worked on everyone but him, Ztar was free to read the minds of the Shi'ar negotiators and their Empress. He learned the Shi'ar had little desire to come to Earth's aid militarily. The Empress would fight for her Earth friends, but her government likely would not. Two days of talks and Ztar grew weary of the meaningless negotiations. He had learned what he wanted and was ready to end the discussions and take control of the planet that was already his. Let the Shi'ar decide whether or not they had the stomach to stop him.

On a whim, he decided to take a look at the Humans who accompanied the Shi'ar on the third day. A slightly different group had come over from the Shi'ar cruiser. What Ztar saw on the viewscreen changed everything. A creature so magnificent, it took his breath away.

Stealth telepathy was Ztar's specialty. He did it better than anyone – nearly undetectable, especially when the victim's mind was distracted. A single mental probe of the Human revealed a great deal. Ztar _must_ have Archangel! He would give away the whole Earth System for that one.

And so his negotiators were instructed to obtain the Human in a manner that guaranteed his complete submission. Earth itself, he told them, was the bargaining chip. Now after waiting three long days, Ztar was about to receive his indentured Human. Time moved slowly as anticipation grew. He was tired of waiting.

Staff kept him fully apprised as events unfolded to augment Ztar's telepathic monitoring. He preferred dual monitoring in most situations – his senses and information his crew provided. It gave him two perspectives on events.

The departure of the rest of the mutants called the X men had been accomplished without incident. Their leader also departed according to plan. The winged man had put up a bit of resistance. That was expected – Ztar would have been disappointed if he had not. The unanticipated conversation between the one called Xavier and Archangel resulted in a delay. However, it had the right effect, so was worthwhile.

All perfectly reasonable steps; it was just that Ztar was not a patient man. He paced the length of the ship's throne room. Finally, he sensed the Shi'ar and the Human approach the antechamber. An aide confirmed they were just outside.

###

Arizai led the way, followed by Warren, Charize, and four Turzent guards. She informed Warren of the protocols to be followed in the Emperor's presence. He replayed those words to keep his mind focused on something relatively benign instead of racing with thoughts of the unimaginable.

"Do not speak until directly addressed by Emperor Ztar," she had explained. "Do not stare into his eyes and keep your head slightly bowed. Do not move unless told or otherwise directed to do so. No threatening or sudden gestures. Answer questions, but ask none unless permission is requested and granted by the Emperor. Remain calm and submissive."

Warren's stomach churned at 'submissive.' It foreshadowed things he did not want to contemplate.

When the doors to the throne room opened, it revealed a powerful-looking man seated in a large, ornate chair positioned on a riser. 'Can only be his royal highness,' Warren concluded sarcastically. Standing at the foot of the riser were two male Turzents in formal attire. Warren recognized one as a Turzent official from the room where he had talked with Xavier, but not the other.

Arizai led them to within a few feet of the throne and stopped, Warren and Charize positioned behind. She waited for the Emperor to address her. And he did make her wait, for many long seconds. Warren sensed the alien monarch liked to make people uncomfortable. He doubted it had that affect on the Shi'ar – they were used to Imperial rulers. Arizai waited without appearing affronted.

Ztar rose, standing erect as if to emphasize his stature. Warren studied him. The alien had to top out at seven feet – taller by a head than any other Turzent he had seen during his brief time on their ship. Ztar was as powerful in appearance as any major mutant Warren had encountered. Toned and muscular, he looked like he could single-handedly fight off a small army. His skin was olive brown and his hair, which could only be described as black crimson, covered his head and trailed to his shoulders. The eyes were large and of a deep brown with flecks of gold. From Warren's brief exposure to others of Ztar's kind, Turzent eyes had no whites and Ztar's were no different. Other than the obvious cosmetic differences, the Turzents and Ztar were remarkably Humanoid.

Ztar finally addressed the female Shi'ar. "All is as agreed?" the Emperor's voice was deep and even those few words were filled with the air of an imperial dictator.

"Yes, Emperor. Our presentation of the Human named Archangel represents fulfillment of the last term to fully enact the Turzent/Earth Accord."

The Emperor descended the single step to the floor and approached Arizai. A glance from Ztar and she politely stood aside. Charize sidled away, as well. Ztar took another step that closed the gap.

'Don't let this guy get to you,' Warren told himself. He held his ground and did not step back even as Ztar moved to within inches. Then circling to Warren's side, the alien looked him up and down as one would examine animal on the auction block. Detachment was crumbling as anger rose. Suddenly, the Emperor reached out and touched the edge of one wing.

Reflexes took over and Warren jumped, and the Emperor's hand was knocked hard aside as wings snapped open. Warren whirled half around. "Hands off, bastard!" he shouted into the face of the ruler, all remnants of detachment having instantly vaporized.

Guards brought their weapons up in a microsecond and had them trained on him and the Shi'ar. The Emperor raised his hand in a halt gesture and everyone froze. Warren caught himself with a jerk and froze. 'Earth's on the line – remember that, Worthington!' He stood stock still, despite every fiber of his body being primed to attack. For several seconds, the room was silent and motionless.

"Hold your position. Lower your weapons," Ztar commanded as he eyed the insolent Human with curiosity. Gazing down at his newest possession, he narrowed his eyes for affect. "Archangel needs to learn how to properly conduct himself and we will allow him a _short_ while to do so." Human eyes locked to Turzent in a glare…blue sparked with anger and the brown remained cold and unaffected. "Turn forward as before. You will control yourself or Earth pays for your disobedience."

'Goddamn bastard!' Warren swore to himself, but did as commanded, fists and jaw clenched. Again, Ztar touched the top edge of Warren's right wing, running his hand down the full length of the wing's reach. Warren fought to suppress a shiver as the hand slid over feathers, but could not.

A nearly invisible smile crossed Ztar's mouth as he completed the circular perusal until back where he started, facing the mutant. "Much better, Archangel."

'Much better my ass, you fucking bastard!' Indignation burned through Warren, but he remained silent for the sake of the planet he called home.

Ztar turned to address Arizai. "I am satisfied. The Accord is in effect as of this moment. It will remain in effect…" Ztar looked back into Archangel's blue eyes, "as long as my new subject fulfills his obligations under its terms."

It was all Warren could do not to strike out, but Ztar's words rooted him in place. 'You'll pay for this. You'll see. The X-men will make you pay!' Warren vowed silently. Then Xavier's words came back to him. There'd be no rescue. 'Not true – don't believe it. A lie for alien ears.'

"Thank you, Emperor Ztar." Arizai and Charize exited the room, their job done.

The guards would have the arrogant Shi'ar delegation off his cruiser within minutes. Ztar immediately started toward a door to one the side of the throne room. "Take Archangel to his chambers. Sukja will attend to him," he commanded as he strode toward the exit.

'_Chambers?_ Not cell – or lab? What the fuck?' Warren was confused.

"Yes, Emperor."

As guards and the Turzent at the foot of the throne started moving toward him, Warren took a risk. 'To hell with protocol' he decided. "Ztar! At least tell me _why_ I'm here – what you want with me? You _owe_ me that much!" he demanded loudly to man's back.

The room drew its breath and held it. Ztar stopped as the door slid open before him, but did not turn around as he considered the options in dealing with the second breach of conduct. He would allow the Human his outburst. Archangel had a strong spirit that he did not want to completely tame. Given his plans, that spirit could be enriching. As he turned slowly to face the winged man, Ztar smiled, though not a friendly one.

"What I _demand_ from you, Archangel, is your body…in my bed." Then he swiftly left the room and the door slid shut.

###

_A/N: Okay, my readers. Here is where I ask for feedback and you kindly indulge me. Remember, that's what this site is all about – authors post stories and others read and review. Oh, the joy of hearing from a reader! _

_So, please, share the joy and post a review – needn't be detailed or involved, just a quick note to let me know you like the chapter (or not). _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: A note of thanks to my reviewers thus far, Silberstreif, ArtistOfLight, and Louisestarfly – you're all terrific! Hope to hear from more of you, as well. Reviews are such a thrill and an important aspect to why we authors upload our stories. Love hearing your impressions and thoughts. _

_The story is broken into 21 chapters. Everything thing is done – I only need to post. If you have a posting rate preference (like once every couple days) or more slowly (once a week), let me know and I'll attempt to accommodate what most would like. _

_With that, let's get back to the story!_

x x x x x

**Chapter 2**

"_What?"_ Warren stared incredulously to where Ztar disappeared. "_What_ did he say?" The implanted universal translators he had received on the Shi'ar vessel must have malfunctioned. That had to be it.

"Archangel, come with me. Ztar's attendant will explain." The aide motioned the guards to move closer.

Warren wasn't budging. "I'm not going _anywhere_ until I get an explanation because what I just heard doesn't make sense. Damn translator isn't working right."

"It's working perfectly," Ztar's aide sighed.

"You can't know that – I'm telling you it didn't work right. I demand you repeat what Ztar said!" he barked.

The aide looked decided annoyed. "Archangel, in case there is a misunderstanding of your circumstance here, you are in no position to demand. You are to obey and submit in any fashion the Emperor chooses. Should you do otherwise, your homeworld is forfeited. If the Emperor wishes for you to be his bedmate, then that's what you'll be." The aide waited. He had generous experience with the current situation. Each of Ztar's "hesitant" companions displayed similar reactions immediately after learning of their position as the Emperor's new consort. And the Emperor had many over the years.

"…in my bed" "bedmate" – that couldn't be right. Couldn't be what he was thinking. A mistake – the translations must be wrong. 'Verify, Worthington. Verify first!' the thought rang in his head. "Bedmate?" he nearly choked on the word.

"Yes, the Emperor wishes you to share his bed and that's what you will do. If you do not, your planet will pay for your defiance," the aide said firmly and coldly.

The room spun as the full meaning of the words took hold. 'Oh my god! No way – no fucking way! This isn't happening. A bad dream. Just need to wake up!'

One portion of his mind fought to deny what he was hearing. It wasn't entirely effective. Another part was racing to fully comprehend the ramifications. The mental torrent resulted in a myriad of chemicals in his blood system with the expected results – Warren thought he'd vomit.

"Breathe deeply to steady yourself," the aide offered, recognizing the signs. "Focus on my voice and do as I say."

Without conscious decision, Warren breathed in, held it, then exhaled slowly, his breath trembling. 'Okay, get a grip,' He took another deep breath. 'Shit shit shit!'

"I'll do no such thing. This is all a lie – a trick," he spoke with desperation. "I demand to read the Accord."

The aide huffed in irritation. The Human was rapidly becoming quite troublesome. Yet the emotional reactions were nearly always the same and not a surprise…confusion, disbelief, denial. Quickly evaluating the situation, the aide concluded the most expedient action was to give the Human what he requested. Let him see his circumstances in writing and perhaps that would end the groundless protests.

Pulling out a hand-held device, the aide brought up the text of the Accord and bypassed the preliminary passages of the document to display those of interest to Archangel. It was all in interstellar legalese, but bottom line, Archangel now belonged to Ztar to do with as he pleased. A couple more taps of the screen and the lengthy treaty was translated into the Human's written language – English, he thought they called it.

"This is the translated version of the Accord, Archangel. I've noted the clauses relating directly to you. All the terms are quite clear and precise in regard to your position and responsibilities," the aide explained handing the device over.

Warren snatched the pad quickly. It could still be a trick, but they would have had to go to a hell of a lot of trouble to create a believable contract between the Turzent Empire, the Shi'ar, and Earth that Warren would buy into. His business acumen would pay dividends.

As he read the clauses of the Accord, his hands began to shake. Earth and the Shi'ar were to deliver him to the Empire in exchange for Earth's autonomy from Turzent rule. Once done, it fell to Warren to safeguard that autonomy – "Archangel/Warren Kenneth Worthington III shall submit without resistance in any manner or conduct as dictated by Emperor Ztar." The document went on to detail in no uncertain terms that failure to submit or obey would immediately subjugate Earth and its people and nullify the autonomy granted by the agreement.

He found another passage that made him dizzy with implications. "Archangel/Warren Kenneth Worthington III is hereby declared the sole property of Emperor Ztar of the Turzent Empire and devoid of any and all rights legally and otherwise granted to sentient beings under Turzent, Shi'ar, and/or Earth law..."

His blood drained away. The words were so cold and dispassionate. Life as he knew it was declared null and void. He was no longer a person, only a possession. 'No rights – no recourse. A fucking piece of property!'

There was more, much more, but Warren couldn't bring himself read any further. He doubted he'd find anything to give the document away as a fraud. What he read sounded like a legitimate legal agreement, and it said exactly what everyone was telling him it did.

'Dear God, it can't be for real! The Professor wouldn't have agreed to this – ever. Don't believe it – won't believe it! But it sounds so real – so fucking legal. Oh God. How can this be? If this is valid, I'm screwed. _Screwed!_'

Having given the Human ample time to review the most important clauses, the aide spoke. "As you can see, the situation is as we've told you. Now we must move along," he said, carefully removing the device from Archangel's trembling grip.

'This isn't real…can't be real…' Warren's mind numbed as shock took hold once again. He blinked at the alien with surreal detachment.

"Archangel," the aide said almost gently, "we are going to your private chambers. Ztar's attendant is there to help you sort this out." He would all too happily turn the Human over to Sukja to manage.

With guards in a semi-circle around them, the aide led the group out of the throne room. Warren followed. Everything was dreamlike and disconnected – as if he was watching someone else walk down the corridor. Disassociation had replaced emotion.

###

Sukja opened the chamber door as the group was arriving. He took charge immediately, beckoning Archangel inside and dismissing everyone else. The aide whispered, "This one's a bit of a handful."

The attendant replied with a quick nod. He had tamed many less than eager bedmates over the years. Emotionally, he doubted the Human would be much different from other unwilling consorts he had prepared for their new role. The man looked dazed; likely emotion shock. That temporary condition would work to Sukja's advantage – it can make the subject more malleable for a time.

He took a moment to take in the man as he moved past, not having been privy to seeing Archangel until that moment. Ztar had described him, but Sukja hadn't seen any images. It was obvious why the Emperor was so determined to possess Archangel. Despite species differences and Sukja's preference being for the opposite gender, he found Archangel beautiful. Part of an attendant's job was to understand and anticipate every imperial desire of a personal nature. Sukja was very good at his work. Thoroughly versed in Ztar's likes, dislikes, desires, and needs, he knew instantly the Human matched his Emperor's tastes perfectly.

Ztar's enthusiastic description had not been overstated. In spite of what must have been a horrifying experience over the past couple hours, Archangel was magnificently beautiful. True to description, the Human did immediately conjure up images of Turzent mythical creatures called the Esserru – winged beings of compassion, incredible beauty, and immense power. In fact, the likeness to those beings was uncanny.

If everything else Ztar said about the winged man was true, and there was no reason to believe otherwise, the Emperor's latest acquisition held great promise to finally provide Ztar what was needed in the bedchamber. Perhaps the lonely and frustrated ruler would find some fulfillment in that arena at long last.

Sukja also realized that if the pairing failed, Ztar may never again find the unique set of qualities present in the Human. Much rode on a positive outcome, and that burden rested heavily on Sukja, but he was confident in his abilities to assuage fears, anger, and rebellion. He had years of experience to call upon.

Sukja moved his hand over the control to close and lock the door. He'd previously set the security system to respond only to his bio signature. Archangel could not leave.

"My name is Sukja and I am Emperor Ztar's personal attendant. These are your chambers," Sukja started.

Warren looked around. His mind focused only things that were potentially useful to his survival – the door they just past through and its control panel which he would have bet was now locked, the two other doors at either end of the large quarters, and objects he could use in self-defense, such as the large metal-looking art piece on the wall by the dining area – nice, sharp points.

Sukja wanted to promise Archangel some future influence over his surroundings. The ability to assert a measure of control over one's circumstance was important to all sentient beings he had encountered. "This is your domain. Here you decide when to rise in the morning, when to eat, when to partake in pastime activities, how you spend your days. If you want to change things around to suit you better, that's your decision." Sukja detailed in a soft, almost melodic voice.

Warren walked further into the room. His head was pounding and his stomach churning, he realized. The rest of his body didn't seem to belong to him – he couldn't really feel it. Thoughts, too, were hard to form. He recognized the sensations as the same numbness and mental shutdown from his first agonizing hours with Apocalypse. It was his brain's attempt to insulate him from what was happening. Warren shook his head in an attempt to reattach. 'Need to think, damn it!' he chastised himself.

Sukja had been kept apprised of events concerning Archangel as they had unfolded. He knew the Human had put up more resistance than typical. But Archangel wasn't typical. He was a unique being coming from uncommon circumstances – a warrior and a person of wealth and influence on his world. Yet as exceptional as the Human may be, the emotional reactions to his new life would likely be consistent with other bedmates Sukja had transitioned into Ztar's service.

The alien was suddenly in front of Warren. "You are in shock. Perhaps a sedative and some rest?"

That made Warren's heart jump. "No sedatives!" he said much more loudly than he had intended.

Sukja took a step backward. "If that is your wish. For now, why don't you just sit for a while? Collect your thoughts and digest what has happened today." Sukja motioned to a comfortable looking chair at a dining table.

'That's harmless enough,' Warren told himself and walked over. The Turzent actually pulled the chair out for him.

Sukja stepped over to the kitchen facilities, filled a glass with water, and placed it in front of Archangel. "Drink – you need the fluids."

Warren hadn't realized he was thirsty, but he was intensely parched. He consumed the water quickly and Sukja got him a second glass. But Warren's stomach revolted from the hastily consumed first glass, and he let the second sit, hoping he didn't vomit in front of the alien.

He studied Sukja to take thoughts off his churning stomach. He didn't resemble any other Turzents Warren had seen. Yet another different species. Thus far, everyone had referred to the aliens collectively as Turzent, no matter what they looked like. Perhaps that was a term like "American" – a reference to nationality instead of race or species. Warren concluded that had to be the case.

Sukja was a good three inches shorter than Warren, putting him about five-foot nine inches, and of a much stockier build than Warren's lithe frame. The alien's most prominent feature was the short, thick hair covering his head in a bright reddish-orange. The alien's carrot-top contrasted the light, creamy-tan skin tone, which contained just a hint of the same orange. His hands had only three fingers with the obligatory opposable thumb as the fourth digit. The slender fingers were longer than Human fingers and their nails more claw-like, extending beyond the tip to come to a dull point. The medium-gray eyes were largish and did have the white sclera that Ztar's species did not possess. His smallish nose was straight as an arrow coming to a slightly upturned end, the chin was somewhat elongated, and the ears looked like someone stretched the lobes to points.

Overall, Sukja was quite Humanoid. That seemed to be a running theme in most aliens Warren had seen as an X-man. Was there some common ancestry eons ago? The question was too big to contemplate. Right then, Warren's body was crashing. A sluggish, heavy feeling pulled at him.

Sukja recognized the outward signs of physiological changes taking place within Archangel. Fatigue was beginning to grip him. Adrenaline was clearing out of his system. So he continued talking softy, but never in a condescending or child-like manner. Nothing that would agitate or offend. Sukja wanted to lull the Human toward the rest needed as his body attempted to recover from shock.

"The ship we're on is named Mi-Lartui, which roughly translates to emperor's sword. We carry an accompaniment of 170 personnel. There are five decks at the ship's tallest point, and two decks at its shortest. We're on deck two. Your chambers are centrally located on this level." Sukja kept his tone steady, smooth.

Warren listened to the drone of the alien's voice, but most words didn't register. His mind kept repeating words and phrases he only wanted to forget.

"Your chambers offer cooking facilities on this end and hygiene facilities on the other end, behind that door. You have computer access from several points throughout the room. The main interface is at that desk."

The alien motioned toward a work area, but Warren didn't follow Sukja's gesture. He didn't care about desks. "Computer" though piqued his interest. Possible hacking opportunities – he'd learned quite a bit from the X-men's computer experts, Beast and Kitty. He filed away that idea for later. He was growing tired – so tired it hurt; another symptom he recognized as adrenaline crash mixed with shock. Warren continued to half listen to the surreal soliloquy as Sukja's mesmerizing voice rambled on.

"You can order meals from the ship's main galley to be brought to you or the ingredients to cook for yourself. We carry an enormous selection of foods and fine liquors from across the Turzent Empire, all of which is at your disposal. We have an extensive library of written works, as well as audio and visual recordings, accessible through your computer terminal."

Sukja continued to speak softly about nothing of consequence, knowing the man would likely remember only snatches. It wasn't the information that was important; it was lulling that was the goal.

As the minutes passed, it was increasingly evident that Archangel's body desired rest. "Archangel, you are safe in this room. I will let no one disturb you if you wish to close your eyes for a while. You have been through much today. A short rest will help you regain your strength and mental clarity." Sukja skillfully played into exactly why Archangel would _want_ to rest under the circumstances. "I will leave you for a short time." With that, Sukja stood up and headed for the main entrance. He turned back to Archangel. "If you need me, press this comm button – it is a direct link to my chambers down the hall." Sukja was somewhat surprised that Archangel looked over to see where the button was. A good sign. With that, he left ensuring the door locked behind him. He would be monitoring Archangel closely from his own chambers.

Once Sukja left, Warren sucked in a deep breath. It seemed he had been taking very shallow breaths and was now somewhat lightheaded. As cloudy as his thinking was, it was clear enough to know they would be watching him. 'Play the dumb Human and maybe I'll learn something useful.'

After all his years of battle, it took a lot to shock Warren, but the situation hitting where he was most vulnerable. It dredged up old traumas and fears that he likely had never truly resolved, especially regarding Apocalypse. In fact, he knew that was the case as much of that horrifying episode he had repressed and stuff down deep inside. As such, he was likely reacting differently and more intensely than most of his fellow X-men would. He'd have to figure out the best way for him to deal with the current predicament, not how someone else would handle it.

With the lightheadedness passing, he stood – and very nearly collapsed. Grabbing the table prevented him from ending up on the floor. 'Steady, flyboy. You're obviously more spent than you realized. And maybe in shock. Perhaps resting _is_ a good idea. Help to think more clearly.'

Warren was well versed in both physical and psychological trauma, but that knowledge doesn't lessen the impacts – only tells you how to deal with them. Training told him that since he was not in immediate danger he should give his body and mind a chance to recover. In doing so, he'd be better equipped to deal whatever might come next.

Once he felt his knees where not going to fail again, he headed toward the large upholstered bench beneath the windows that ran the entire length of the chamber. Outside the window, star trails sped by telling him they were traveling at faster-than-light (FTL) speed. That made his heart fall. He really was alone.

Reaching the window seat, he laid down facing the room. The seat was deep enough for two to sit side-by-side, so there was plenty of room for his wings. He'd take a few minutes to close his eyes and shake off the lingering dizziness.

On the viewscreen, Ztar watched his trophy fall quickly asleep. Such perfection! With sleep, the scowl and shock from the day's event dissipated. What remained was flawless beauty…unsurpassed exquisiteness. His body already ached to be with the wondrous creature. However, Ztar was nothing if not methodical and disciplined. He would wait until Sukja had readied the Human. And Sukja knew Ztar's patience had severe limits.

Sukja also sat watching Ztar's captive. He was relieved that Archangel slept. It would help his body cleanse itself of the many hormones and chemicals that had built up in his system that made him less predictable and more volatile. It would not serve well if Archangel was violent when Ztar visited.

###

Warren woke with a start and was instantly confused about his surroundings. Unfamiliar room, unfamiliar sensations. He sat upright with a jerk.

'_Where?_' his mind sought desperately. Then like a shockwave, everything came crashing back. The meeting with Charize, holding the Shi'ar's neck in a lock, Xavier's abandonment, the presentation to the Emperor, those words Ztar spoke before leaving the throne room…

Warren groaned and buried his face in his hands, trying to deny reality. "_No o-o!"_ he cried out in a choked voice. Suddenly, he was freezing and shaking uncontrollably, pulling wings tight to his body for warmth and comfort.

'This can't be real. Can't! Oh god, what now? You're screwed, Worthington,' his heart pounded. 'Fucked over and screwed!' His mind raced faster than his heartbeat. 'What Ztar said – no way! Won't happen. I won't let it. Sick and twisted!' Then thoughts turned to the X-men. 'The Prof wouldn't let them have me. He was just leading them on. That's it! They'll come for me. Scott and the others – they won't abandon me. Just have to hang in there…' he latched onto that hope like a life preserver.

Concentrating on his breathing, he slowed it from its frantic, shallow gulps to steady, rhythmic inhales and exhales. Gradually, he quieted. The shaking ceased. His heart rate dropped. As he forced himself to calm, the disassociation from earlier reasserted itself.

The sensor chimed and Sukja turned toward the viewscreen – the Human was awake. He watched in admiration as Archangel sat on the bed to collect himself. That trait would serve Archangel well. Soon it would be time for Sukja to rejoin Archangel, but he'd give the man a few minutes alone first.

Warren felt strong enough to leave the window seat. The first business at hand was a visit to the bathroom. It was roomy with a large, glass-enclosed shower on one side, vanity in the center, and the toilet on the opposite side. Having relieved himself and splashed cold water on his face, he felt steadier.

He ventured around the room and spied the computer portal Sukja referred to earlier. It was one of the few things he remembered from the alien's ramblings. Although he recalled the man had spoken for a while, Warren couldn't remember much of what he'd said. 'Shock at work,' he told himself.

The chambers were rectangular; its decor the picture of understated elegance. 'What did they do, hire a Human decorator?' he thought sarcastically. It resembled a showroom display, complete with elegant upholstery and other lush fabrics, fine furniture, artwork, and accessories. But everything had a distinct otherworldly look about it.

An open area in the center of the suite apparently served as bedroom, dining room, and sitting area. The bed sat adjacent to the bathroom and beneath the wall of the windows. Next to the foot of the bed was the window seat. Opposite the bed and window wall were the sitting and dining areas with the main entrance to the chambers located in-between.

Just for the heck of it, Warren had to try the main entrance door control. Just as he knew, it did not respond. On the opposite end of the room from the bath were the kitchen facilities with another door. To where? He tried to activate it without response. He assumed he'd find out sooner or later where it led.

He walked over to the dining table and drank the second glass of water Sukja had gotten him earlier. Instant queasiness was his reward. At that moment, a tone sounded from the direction of main entrance startling him. The door slid open to reveal Sukja. Warren stiffened.

"Greetings, Archangel," Sukja said warmly as he entered. Then quickly, "I promise you, there will come a time when I will not simply enter without your permission and this door will not be locked. We will know when that time comes."

Warren simply eyed the alien without comment. For now, he'd take in as much information as he could and reveal little himself. He'd do what was necessary to survive until the X-man came.

Sukja carried clothes in his arms. "These have been tailored specifically for you. There are enough here to start. More clothes will be sent up later."

'What the hell?' Warren shook his head. Custom-tailored clothes? It was too much to accept. He could only be dreaming. Or had gone insane.

Sukja walked toward the wardrobe closet that shared a wall with the bathroom, opened the door, and began putting the clothes in cubicle slots. He felt the Human's eyes on his back.

"A _closet organizer!_ This _is_ a bad dream!" The sound of his own voice jolted Warren – he hadn't intended to say anything aloud.

Sukja finished before turning and speaking. "Archangel, I assure you this is no dream. This is serious business. You play a vital role in safeguarding your planet as outlined in the Turzent/Earth Accord."

Warren's anger flared. "This is _bullshit!_ I can't do what you want to me do. I _won't!_ I don't give shit about your Accord. Let me go now or I start ripping off heads – yours first!" He took a couple threatening steps toward the alien. 'No way in hell am I cooperating with these Turzent assholes. Just wait until the X-men come – then they'll find out just how misguided their fucking Accord is.'

'Need to squelch this now,' Sukja told himself, not allowing Archangel's move intimidate him. He'd been down the same path with other hostile bedmates.

"It's not what I want that should matter to you; it's what Emperor Ztar wants. Your fate has been decided; there is no choice in the matter. You will do as he commands. That is your new reality no matter how much you wish otherwise or try to deny."

"Like hell it is! I don't give a damn what that asshole wants. This is insane!"

"Do not test our Emperor. He will do as he has promised if you defy him. Your world will be crushed like dozens of others that resisted his rule. Earth will become a labor planet. The lowest of the low." Sukja paused for effect. He wanted there to be no doubt in the Human's mind about the price of non-compliance. "Is that what you want? Will you accept that as the price of rebellion? For in the end, Ztar would still have you and the Earth enslaved."

The alien stood his ground with an air of cool confidence. The response was firm and unyielding, and every word cut through Warren like a blade of ice. All he wanted to do was start bashing alien heads, but the words of the Accord loomed like an ax over his own. What if he fought back and the aliens followed through on their threat? What if he got people killed?

'Shit! If this is real – if it's all true...' The story was the same from everyone – the Shi'ar, Xavier, the Turzents, and from the alien in front of him. Earth's future rested on his shoulders. What he'd read in the Accord made it clear – submit or Earth was lost. It did not look good.

Archangel was visibly shaken by the blunt summary of his situation. Sukja watched closely as the man sat down on the window seat, clearly dispirited.

"In my world, we believe there are always options." Warren grasped at straws. There were always options; Xavier had taught him that from the very beginning. Sometimes those options are hard to see at first. Sometimes you have to create your own. And sometimes, the choices may not be very desirable. But no matter what, there are always options.

"This is not Earth. This is your world now – the Turzent Empire and Ztar. Here you have only those options granted by the Emperor. He has granted you two: you submit to him or the Earth will submit to him. Your choice, Archangel."

Warren did not speak for a long time. He focused again on breathing with desperate effort. His choices were decidedly leaning toward the undesirable.

'Fuck this alien! Fuck Ztar,' Warren's stomach flopped at his own words. 'God, if I've got this right, that's exactly what's going to happen. Going to be sick!' He sucked in air to suppress the nausea. 'Don't think about. Just handle things as they come. Stay in control!' he drew in another deep breath. 'Focus, X-man. Not a lot of choices right now, but that could change. Don't do anything stupid that might put Earth at risk.' he warned himself. 'Can't let Earth fall to these savages…couldn't live with that.'

Warren focused on steadying his breathing and maintaining control of runaway thoughts and emotions. 'Perhaps when there's no way out, you head directly into the fire. _God, help me!_' Then he braced for what he didn't want to ask, but had to.

"What happens next?"

"I think a shower is in order."

Warren had to admit he probably didn't smell the best.

But before Warren got to the bathroom, the chamber entrance slid open without warning. A crewmember strode in with authority, possibly high-ranking if Warren had to guess by the style of uniform. Yet another species. The face was fundamentally humanoid in structure with all the standard parts in the typical places, but with reptilian qualities. The nose and mouth area was more snouted, the reddish-brown eyes had slitted pupils, and the holes in the sides of the head inferred ears. Its skin was a dark brownish gray and with the look of thick, crinkled hide. It was not readily apparent if the alien was male or female. The hands had four fingers, one being opposable, each ending with a blunted claw. In those hands were devices that like their handler weren't obvious as to nature.

"Arrchangel, I prresssume," the alien greeted in a heavily accented voice that elongated certain sounds. Without waiting for a response, he waved at a chair. "Sssit. Thisss ssshould only take a couple minutesss."

Warren looked at the alien, then to Sukja, then back to the intruder. "What will only take a few minutes?"

"My apologies, Archangel, I wasn't informed that anyone from medical was on their way up," Sukja replied with a warning look to the brusque crewmember.

The medic tipped his longish chin in what Warren interpreted as an indignant gesture. "The exxxamination isss rroutine, asss you arre well awarre. Afterr ssso many yearrsss, I thought we werre passst the need to announccce myssself."

Warren smirked internally. 'Zing!'

Sukja didn't flinch, which Warren equally admired. "Proceed." The word was very much in command tone.

The medic gestured with some impatience for Warren to sit on a lounge area chair.

Warren stayed rooted in place, crossing his arms. "What are you going to do?"

The alien huffed and turned sharply back to the Sukja. "Deal with yourr charrge. I have otherr dutiesss needing my attention and don't have time for uncooperrative patientsss."

A slow burn began in Warren's gut. "Talk to _me_, not him," he snapped verbally and with wings to emphasize his displeasure. "Tell me what this exam is about."

With a visual exam that had nothing to do with medical evaluation and everything to do with measuring Warren up, what passed for an eyebrow rose up. "Verry well, Arrchangel." Turning toward Sukja, the alien continued. "The Emperorr finally chossse a companion with ssspunk. About time. Betterr suitsss the man, don't you agrree?"

Warren saw no reason to keep a scowl from his face. Then he saw a slight smirk upturn one corner of Sukja's mouth, suggesting the gruff demeanor was a calculated prodding. Whether it was a solo or joint effort, he had no way of knowing. He deepened the frown.

"Perhaps introductions are in order," Sukja suggested, dodging the question.

The medic gestured with a hand that Warren read as approval. "Indeed. Arrchangel, I am Physssicccian Dazjarrdentiz and am Lead Medical Officccerr for the Mi-Larrtui. The crrew callsss me Physssicccian Daz. Easssierr. Now, what we need to do today isss a thorrough ssscan for contagionsss and pathogensss for two reasonsss – to prrotect usss from you and you from usss. The daysss we ssspent in yourr home sssyssstem gave me and my ssstaff time to evaluate the common micrroorrganisssmsss native to yourr worrld, asss well asss generral Human physssiology."

"I have a unique physiology that can handle most anything."

The alien tilted its head. "Yesss, we deterrmined that in the generral ssscansss taken when you firrssst boarrded. While assspectsss of yourr physssiology fall outssside the apparrent norrm for yourr ssspeccciesss, you arre ssstill Human. I'm awarre of yourr imprressssive rregenerrative abilitiesss and immune sssyssstem, but you arre outssside yourr naturral envirronment and I'd rrather not take chancccesss. Therre arre ssseveral inoculationsss rrequirred to prrotect you from contagionsss too forreign forr yourr immune defensssesss to handle no matterr how enhanccced they may be."

"The Shi'ar inoculated me before I even stepped foot on this ship."

"Underrssstood. Howeverr, asss much asss I am imprresssed with the Ssshi'ar, they arre not from thisss galaxxxy and I will not entrussst my patient'sss wellbeing to visssiting physssiccciansss. Now, if we could prroccceed with the exxxamination, I'd like to ensssurre you rremain in good health while in my carre." The medic produced what could only be a smile on the otherwise fairly rigid face.

"Seems reasonable. Will this prevent me from carrying anything back to Earth when I return?" He shot a quick glance toward Sukja to spot any reaction to the inference. Nothing. The medic likewise seemed unfazed.

"Arrchangel, therre arre few guarranteesss in medicccine when it comesss to crosss-ssspeccciesss contamination, but what we do today ssshould rreduccce that chanccce to a very manageable level. Coupled with the auto-decontamination that occurrsss within trransssport ssshuttlesss and chanccces arre furrther rreduccced." Daz and Sukja exchanged quick glances. "Ssshould you leave thisss ssship in a trransssporrt not ssso equipped, acccidental contamination becomesss a higherr prrobability." With a sweep of a hand toward a chair, the doctor prompted Warren to sit.

'No sense protesting if it helps protect Earth,' he concluded and dropped the defiant attitude. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled, not wanting to appear too compliant.

As promised, the examination and inoculations took less than five minutes and Physician Daz was gone. Warren then headed to the shower, which Sukja had turned on while the medic worked.

Warren didn't shower for anyone's benefit but his own. However, the decision to comply didn't make the act feel any less servile. But he bit back the distaste in favor of playing along for the time being. He made the shower quick, kept feathers as dry as possible, and on focused thoughts of the immediate and not on imaginings of far more distasteful acts.

###

_A/N: Don't forget to let me know your posting rate preference. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: My gratitude goes out to silberstreif, louisestarfly, and ArtistofLight for your thoughts and observations – you make me smile from ear to ear knowing that you are enjoying the revamped story. And thanks to the others who've put the story on alert – you know who you are. I've been pleasantly surprised at how many visitors the first two chapters have gotten – from many countries, too! Warren fans have always seemed few and far between, but the stats tell me there are many scattered across the globe. _

_And yes, Physician Daz is new. His role, though, is a single performance as his appearance served its purpose, and so he gracefully takes his bow and exits the stage. Also, I did notice how his accent came through on the word "as." Brought a smile to my face as well, ArtistOfLight. Had it leave it, though – was one of those little things that I wondered if anyone would pick up on. _

_And the votes are in – I'll try to update two or three times a week. _

_Okay, here we go with the third chapter – it is not a good one for our Warren…_

_**- - - - Mature Subject Matter Warning - - - -**_

**Chapter 3**

Ztar viewed the scene between Sukja and Archangel with admiration for both men. Sukja's skill was unmatched in companion matters. He was handling the Human brilliantly. Archangel's initial shock seemed to be passing quickly. 'A good sign,' he felt. It reaffirmed his decision to negotiate away control of the far-flung planet for the uniquely desirable individual. Tonight, Ztar would have what he had been anticipating with growing excitement.

###

Warren showered and put on the clothes Sukja had laid out. His X-man uniform would be cleaned and returned, the attendant promised. The new clothes fit perfectly – snug, but not tight. The outfit resembled sophisticated loungewear, with one modification. To allow for his wings, the top had a generous opening in the back. The fabric behind the neck and below the wings met at a seam in the center that fastened closed without any visible method. 'Alien Velcro?' Warren wondered. There was no front opening. Both the top and slacks were incredibly soft and smooth, in a deep, crystal blue.

Sukja left once Warren was dressed saying he had duties to attend to. The routine of showering and dressing had made him feel stronger by focusing on something, yet as soon as those tasks were complete, thoughts raced. Over and over he reminded himself what was at stake. 'Don't do anything stupid. Just hold on for rescue...that's all you have to do.'

Warren did not know how things would play out. Sukja had simply stated Ztar would visit him later and offered no details. The unknown and empty waiting were excruciating. Too many scenarios played out in his mind. Warren was making himself ill. He needed another distraction.

Spying the computer, he decided that'd be the perfect diversion. He sat at the desk and tried to figure out how it worked, finding voice command was the key, and allowed exploration to fully occupy his troubled mind. And when Ztar's words would creep in, he refocused on the computer. Each time his imagination began to create scenes of what his immediate future might bring, Warren shoved them aside.

The time was punctuated with frequent visits by Sukja during what felt like late afternoon, but Warren had no idea how time passed on the ship. During one visit, the alien brought a prepared meal, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. He tried knowing his body needed the calories and energy, but it only made his stomach rebel. After what seemed like hours, Warren noticed that the lights had gradually dimmed. Evening?

###

Once his responsibilities were finished for the day, the Emperor commanded Sukja to his private chambers.

"You summoned me."

"I gather Archangel is settled in?" Ztar inquired using the euphemism they had shared for many years.

"Yes, Emperor. I believe everything is in place for this evening."

"Good!" Ztar said with enthusiasm that Sukja hadn't heard in a long time.

"I will take my leave then, Emperor, unless you need anything further." Sukja said with a small bow and turned to exit his ruler's chambers.

"Wait." Ztar commanded. Sukja turned back. "I will not go easy on Archangel this night, Sukja. I have waited too long for someone like him to hold back."

Sukja felt a stab of concern for the Human. "I will attend to him after," he assured the Emperor as he exited.

In his chambers, Ztar readied himself. Over the past three days, he planned what he wanted from the first encounter. There would be nothing sensual about the coming night; he did not fool himself. Long pent up desires needed to be sated. Knowing he was far stronger than the Human, even accounting for what he'd learned telepathically of the mutant's strength, handling Archangel would not be that difficult. But because Archangel was an experienced warrior, Ztar would use telepathic influence, applying only enough surreptitious control to ensure Archangel did not cause injury. Although, as toughly built as Ztar was, it would be difficult for the Human to do any real damage.

When Ztar silently entered Archangel's suite through the door joining their chambers, the Human was at the desk at the opposite end of the room. He waited patiently for the man to notice him, enjoying the anticipation.

###

Warren sensed a presence and turned to see Ztar at the mystery door. His heart jumped and then began pounding. He didn't know what to do, so he stayed seated, eyes locked to his abductor, dread growing by the heartbeat. Ztar was no longer in his Emperor's clothes. In fact, he was dressed similarly to Warren. The man seemed even bigger than Warren remembered. Muscular, solid, broad, Ztar stood with the air of a man who got what he wanted…an imposing figure of power and supremacy.

Sukja's blunt warning rang in his head, "You will do as Ztar wants. That is your new reality… He will do as he has promised if you defy him. Your world will be crushed like dozens of others…" And then the words he'd been fighting down all day rolled through him like a physical shockwave, "What I _demand_ from you, Archangel, is your body…in my bed."

As Ztar stepped closer, Warren suppressed emotion as best he could. There was no fight, no flight – he was trapped. 'Dear God, _please_ let me be wrong about what's going to happen.' An errant shiver traced through his body.

Ztar's keen sight caught the quiver – mostly the wings gave it away. Even that small physical reaction heightened his building desire. 'You are mine at last,' Ztar relished to himself and closed the remaining distance between them. By the time he reached Archangel, the Human had scrambled to his feet and was backing away. In a lightening quick move, he grabbed an arm and dragged him close, simultaneously wrapping his other arm around the small of the back, pinning one arm to Archangel's side. He saw fear in the blue eyes and it aroused him further.

"Let me _go!_" Warren demanded into Ztar's face as he struggled to wrest free. 'God, he's strong!'

The remembered words of warning lost meaning as fear escalated. Instinct took over and Warren fought against the alien's grasp. The Turzent was incredibly powerful, but he managed to break one arm free. Or did Ztar allow it? Looking for a vulnerable point, Warren brought his fist up toward Ztar's head hoping to break his nose. Then in mid motion, Warren couldn't think what he had wanted to do and he missed the target as the alien head dodged. '_Huh?_'

Ztar took advantage of the confusion he had induced and lifted Archangel by the waist and hauled him in a few long strides to the bed. In one smooth motion, Archangel was prone and trapped beneath him. Ztar brought his mouth swiftly down on Archangel's.

"_No!_" Warren snarled, managing to escape Ztar's mouth. 'God, please, not _this!_' he implored the heavens, falling into a jumbled mess of panic and rage. He pushed against the alien's shoulders, but couldn't budge the man.

"Get off me, bastard!" Warren yelled as Ztar came down on him again for another savage kiss, the alien's mouth crushing his lips.

Try as he might, Warren couldn't focus his thoughts to form any defensive moves. 'What in God's name is going on? Why isn't my brain working?' Then an arm shoved its way beneath Warren's back and wing. A hand grabbed a wing edge and squeezed hard. Warren gasped, giving Ztar an opening and his tongue forced its way into Warren's mouth. Instantly, he thought to bite the invading organ, but found he couldn't make his jaw worked. 'What the hell?' Twisting his face away, he tried to free his mouth.

As the one hand moved from the wing and fisted itself painfully in his hair to hold his head still, another snaked down between their bodies to his groin and Warren stiffened at the massaging contact. 'Mother fucking son of bitch!' Warren gagged as the alien's tongue probed deeper. In a reflex move, he landed a fisted blow to the side of Ztar's head. As Ztar jerked back in surprise, Warren was going to follow through with a palm punch to the chin, but again his thoughts were disrupted.

'What the hell is _wrong_ with me?' Warren's stomach was about to lose it contents.

Rising up, Ztar grabbed Archangel's clenched hands and pinned them down on either side of his head atop the wings. Despite the surprise to the side of his head, Ztar was actually enjoying the struggle. He smiled down. But perhaps a _little_ more mental control was in order.

Warren felt an odd sensation in his head similar to a mental touch by Xavier. For a brief instant, he thought the Professor trying to contact him, but the next instant brought recognition that it was a different mind. 'Shit! Ztar's a _telepath!_' Realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It explained everything – he was such an idiot!

"Good, Archangel. Your mind is quick," Ztar said down to his captive and descended upon Archangel again, but with firmer control.

Warren's mind became mushy and dazed; cohesive thought was difficult. He recognized the signs – mind control. Then things started happening to him that he couldn't prevent. Powerful hands tore away clothing, ran down and over his body. Wings spread wide to be painfully explored; tracings of pain following the roving fingers. Ztar's mouth on his, tongue probing deep.

Warren tried desperately to orchestrate some sort of defense, but thoughts were half-formed and sluggish. He attempted to knock the hands away, but was blocked. He tried to avoid the alien's mouth without success. He fought to pull wings in tight, but was not allowed. Kicking and punching thoughts never translated to action. Body and brain refused to coordinate on any level.

"Get _off_ me! Don't _do_ this!" he managed to yell between the crushing kisses, but Ztar didn't even bother with a response. 'Oh god, oh god. Not happening. God…no!'

Ztar was in bliss! Archangel's body was beyond anything he had imagined. Everything about the Human was designed for sexual bliss. Smooth, firm, flawless…ethereally beautiful and sensual. Silken feathers that hinted of wild animal. The very scent of the creature was erotic! Every seductive touch and sight; each delicious smell and taste drove him to want more. Ztar went into erotic overload from the intensity of the sensation and lust. He would merge with the incredible being; experience him fully, completely – he'd not leave one millimeter of the man untouched.

He assailed the exquisite body with new intensity. He was rough, savage. Ztar did not check his strength, did not hold back. Mental probes had told him Archangel's amazing healing capacity made him nearly indestructible. He could enjoy himself without fear of permanent or fatal injury. To know that Archangel would mend so quickly, so effectively, was incredibly freeing.

/ _Never…anything like this! Give to me, Archangel!_ / the Emperor demanded, pressing the command into the Human's mind as he bit Archangel's neck deeply, skin breaking beneath the powerful teeth. Archangel cried out.

"You d-don't…have to…do this!" Warren stammered, vocalizing nearly impossible as Ztar's control tightened.

He allowed Archangel to struggle only enough to make things interesting. When Ztar demanded a kiss, he used psychic control to open the sensual mouth. When he desired to sink his fingers beneath and through the feathers, he forced Archangel to spread the glorious wings wide.

Powerful hands slid over wings and fingers slipped between delicate feathers. "Don't! No!" He tried folding them in once again, but the telepath prevented it. He disliked anyone touching the sensitive appendages and rarely permitted more than a brush across them. Just two people in his life had he allowed more than that and even then only occasionally. Now a stranger – an alien rapist – dug fingertips deeply between feathers and combed through to their tips, sending shivers and tremors through wings and body.

Ztar continued to explore the wings, probing and squeezing along their span. Telepathy revealed how much Archangel hated the fondling, but it mattered not. Like a trembling, wild creature, Archangel's helplessness beneath him excited the Turzent, adding fuel to the inferno that was his lust.

Warren tried every maneuver Xavier had taught him to break free from Ztar's mental hold to no avail. Failing that, he tried to shut out what was happening, but that escape was also blocked. Warren's hands clenched the bedding against the horror, the only place Ztar would allow him to grab. His world shrank to only the pain pummeling his body.

"Stop, please – just….stop…"

Ztar did not ease up at the plea nor did he rein himself in. For far too long, he had been forced to hold back for fear of substantial injury or even death of a bedmate. No longer. He could take what he so desperately wanted and Archangel would heal. Ztar shuddered from the fulfillment of needs long denied. The hungry beast within finally felt satiety. 'Waited so long for this!' Ztar couldn't get enough fast enough. All he wanted was more and still more, until Ztar thought he might be incinerated by a desire that exceeded any he had known.

Exploring every inch of Warren, unchecked strength left bruising wherever his assailant's hands roamed, and they roamed everywhere. His highly sensitive wings screamed under Ztar's powerful onslaught. His entire body throbbed and intense ache stabbed to the bone wherever Ztar's hands squeezed and massaged. Warren's body writhed. Would it never end? There was only physical pain, mental anguish, and the alien.

'Don't let this be real!' Pain, terror, and shame engulfed Warren as the brutal attack continued.

Ztar wasn't sure how long he devoured the amazing creature – an hour, longer? He didn't care. All he knew was _this_ is what he had longed for, and now it was his. His and his alone. Ztar was nearing climax and he readied his bedmate.

/ _I will have you!_ / Ztar declared in lust-induced fever.

Warren knew what was coming as Ztar positioned his body…the last way in which Earth's Angel hadn't yet been violated. He was powerless to stop it. A dread seized him that he not known before.

/ _Don't – no…_ / he begged the telepath. / _Not that! _/

Ztar's natural lubrication meant there was no need for anything artificial – one of nature's adaptations of Turzent physiology that allowed for easy same-sex partnerships. But Archangel's anatomy required gradual penetration to accept the Emperor comfortably. Preparation was a luxury for another time. Ztar wasn't a patient man – Archangel would heal.

'No! Not this. Oh god!' Warren struggled with new desperation to break free of the mental shackles. 'Can't…fight…'

Then Ztar took Archangel hard and deep, ramming his large presence into his captive with a single, powerful thrust. His body shook from the delirious feel of plunging into the man – hot, tight, clenching. Thoughts no longer formed as carnal drives took control, and he surrendered to it with wanton abandon.

"_No-o-o-o!_" Searing, tearing pain shot through him as the alien forced himself inside. Ztar had penetrated where no one had and it felt as if he was being split apart. Warren no longer cared if he screamed, and cries echoed each excruciating thrust and retraction.

/ _Please! /_ Warren's soul shrieked in despair. / _S-stop! _/

It was an eternity to Warren – tearing flesh, stabbing pain; the feel of the alien invading deep within. 'Pain – so much – God, please…' Too much agony, too much horror – his mind pulled into itself. Then physical numbness began to blanket him, bringing some semblance of relief.

Again and again, Ztar rammed into his bedmate, oblivious to everything but the overwhelming sensation of building to climax. Hard and deep, faster and faster, he thrust into Archangel, making up for all his disappointment from an endless line of bedmates that could not satisfy. All the long years he had to hold back. The countless nights of frustration when sexual need went unmet. Finally, he could throw restraint to the wind and at long last be fulfilled. Ztar did not stop until he had shot hot liquid deep within the man he claimed for his own and was utterly and wholly spent.

With desire replete, he laid atop his conquest, both men covered with sweat and breathing coming in gasps. Archangel trembled violently under the Emperor; eyes squeezed shut. As Ztar recovered, he gently stroked a wing with one hand and gazed into the flawless face contorted with pain.

Warren kept his eyes closed tight against the throbbing and burning permeating his body and the man responsible. Aware the rape had stopped, but little else, he drifted in a pool of pain and mental numbness. Consciousness had nearly left him from agony that swallowed both body and spirit.

Ztar gazed at his beautiful possession. 'Never in my fantasies could I have imagined anything more wondrous.' He ran his fingers through the damp, golden hair.

"This was worth all the years of frustration; all the years of waiting. You're mine now, Archangel," he whispered.

Archangel. _His_ Archangel. Ztar liked the name. Before leaving the Earth system, he ordered the intelligence gathering arm of his military to begin mining Earth's computer data. In a specific request, he asked for the definition of the mutant's moniker. Ztar learned that many of planet's religions believed in angels, the Earth equivalent of the Turzent's legendary Esserru. Ztar liked everything the name Archangel connoted. Naturally, the Emperor found Archangel's given name in his mind, but Ztar didn't care for it. Archangel fit his captive perfectly – he would keep it.

Still breathless, he whispered, "You did well." Slowly, sensually, he slid a palm down a trembling wing. That small thing threatened to reignite his desire, but the Human needed time to mend. 'In the future, you can take him more than once,' he promised himself. Ztar was a man fully capable of multiple orgasms.

Warren's mind was too numb to form a response; his body too exhausted and painful to move. All he wanted was to be unconscious and oblivious. 'Please, let it be over,' he prayed.

Ztar heard telepathically. "We're done. Rest now." With that, Ztar left the bed, strode nude across the room and exited, but not before telepathically summoning his attendant to Archangel's side.

###

Sukja was in Archangel's room within moments. He said not a word, but went directly into the bathroom and turned on the shower and dialed up the room heat. The Human would be in shock. If Sukja's experience was any indication of what to expect, Archangel would want to wash away all scent and remnants of the event. The shower would be ready when the man was ready.

Silently, he approached the bed where Archangel had curled into a fetal position, wrapped only in the white wings held tightly against him. He was shaking. Bruises marred the beautiful body. Blood stained the bedding. Sukja's chest tightened at the sight. 'Ztar, if only…' he shook his head at thoughts of how much more difficult the Turzent had made Sukja's job.

Ztar had told him of Archangel's miraculous healing ability, and he assumed it was reversing the consequences of the Emperor's unbridled lust. What he didn't know was how long to leave Archangel lay healing. He hadn't thought to bring a medical scanner. He could have one delivered, but would do without and judge progress by observation. Gently, he sat down on the edge of the bed to watch quietly. He didn't touch Archangel. He would just be there; a gentle presence so the Human would not be alone.

Warren's mind had pretty much shut down. Only pain registered. It engulfed him. He let it. While he drifted in and out of awareness, his body repaired itself. Internal injuries from Ztar's savage penetrations were top priority followed by the more superficial wounds. Injuries of the mind, however, were beyond his healing factor's reach.

Sukja watched with awe as scratches and bruises disappeared. 'Amazing,' he thought. Sukja waited patiently as Archangel mended. Not knowing if the worst injuries healed first or last, he chose to assume the former. All outward signs of trauma had disappeared. Mental trauma also needed to be addressed quickly less Archangel's mind turn inward permanently. Sukja felt it was time to stir the man.

"Archangel," he whispered. "It's Sukja. I'm here."

No response.

"Archangel, I need you to get up."

Warren heard a distant voice, but couldn't really understand the words. He wasn't sure he cared enough to try. All he wanted was to drift away and feel nothing.

"Archangel, you need to move." The Human was still curled in a ball, often a sign of psychological trauma – he would need to proceed carefully. Sukja decided to risk a soft touch to nudge the Human to full consciousness. That was a mistake.

Warren's body registered the contact. His mind leapt to another brutal time. He was in Apocalypse's lair. Physical agony was all-consuming as his body adapted to the horrific transformation forced upon it. The supermutant touched him and Archangel had lashed out at the source, leaping at the throat of his tormentor with murderous intent. That time, his action resulted in nothing more than being batted aside like an insect.

Not so this time.

'Kill!'

The attack came with inhuman speed as Sukja and Archangel went flying across the room, careening into the sitting area sending furniture and accessories scattering in all directions. They hit the floor hard and the air shot from Sukja's lungs. Archangel landed astride Sukja with the man's neck in a stranglehold to squeeze the life out of his assailant.

Collecting himself despite his vulnerable position, Sukja quickly realized Archangel was only semi conscious. Sukja struggled to pull the hands from his throat, but Archangel kept his death grip. Sukja was no weakling himself and well-trained in self-defense. A hard knee thrust against the Human's back and a sharp chop to the throat and Archangel released. That was all Sukja needed to throw him off. The naked Human hit the floor to Sukja's side.

Everything went still. Sukja didn't move. Archangel simply lay where he had been tossed for many long seconds. The first thing to move was the wings, creating a soft rustling as they drew tight to the lithe form. Then ever so slowly, the Human sat upright, the trance-like state at least partially broken. Sukja followed suit.

"You move with remarkable speed," Sukja said, massaging his neck. Archangel looked at him with dull eyes, but did not reply.

Sukja stood. The Human remained on the floor, watching Sukja's movements with disinterest.

Warren's mind was a jumbled mess with memories of Apocalypse intruding on present horrors. Old and new emotions of shame and self-loathing entwined. As recollections of the rape tried to form, he instinctively blocked them. His mind preferred to remain numb in self-preservation, causing everything to be hazy and unreal.

"You probably want to bathe – the shower is running. It will do you good," Sukja advised. He wondered whether to hold out a hand to help the Human to his feet, but decided against it.

With no thoughts of his own to tell him what to do, he let the Turzent guide him. In a dreamlike state, Warren followed the promptings – a shower, toweling down, fresh clothes. Then he curled up on the window seat and fell into coma-like asleep.

###

It was many hours before Warren emerged from depths his mind had run to. Rather than being confused about his surroundings as last time, he woke knowing where he was – his chambers on the Imperial cruiser. The knowing was no comfort.

His mind was again clear, but that had its drawbacks. Thoughts were quick to return to the events of the previous evening. His stomach revolted and he made a dash to the bathroom to vomit. The physical response to his revulsion actually seemed to help. As he sat on the floor recovering, memories of the rape kept taunting and threatening, but as quickly as they surfaced, Warren forced thoughts elsewhere. Avoidance is a good survival technique.

'God, feel dirty!' He needed to shower again – vigorously. He rose, stripped, and attempted to turn on the shower, but the controls defied him.

'What the hell? Why won't this work? Should be simple!' He slammed a hand against the water controls in frustration. Emotionally raw, he had no patience to figure out the bathing facilities.

'You're a mess, Worthington. Collect yourself.' With a deep breath followed by a long, steady exhale, he pulled himself together as best he could. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he exited the bathroom. 'Let's at least keep our sanity or some semblance thereof,' he told himself. It was then he noticed the slight shaky, queasy feeling that told him he'd gone too long without food.

A glance out at the windows showed they were still moving in FTL mode. Then it hit him – were they headed for Ztar's planet, or did Ztar live permanently in space? 'Can't live in a _tin can!_' his soul shrieked. 'If there's a God, please let that not be the answer!' The physical reaction to sudden distress was a rapid drop in blood pressure with the accompanying faintness. Warren bent over at the waist.

'Get a grip, War! Ask before going off the deep end. Right now, think about something…anything else. Just hang on 'til the X-men find you.' The faintness eased and he slowly stood upright.

'Food! That's good. Need to keep up my strength,' Warren redirected. Souped up metabolisms require caloric intake on a regular basis and some of the wooziness was due to a lack thereof.

Deciding to dress first, he pulled out clothes from the wardrobe at random. He did notice his X-man uniform was back, neatly folded in one of the cubbyholes. Then he saw the bed was also made and the mess from his vaguely recalled attack of Sukja was no more. It distressed him that someone – Sukja? – had cleaned and he hadn't wakened.

Rummaging through the kitchen, he found it stocked. Some things were obvious as to their nature; other items would need explanation. Warren did find a box of cracker-like wafers that proved bland enough for his stomach to tolerate. 'Coffee would be wonderful right about now!' Nothing in the kitchen resembled the elixir of life, as he and Beast liked to refer to it. 'That will need to be rectified.'

He jerked. 'Don't _do_ that!' he chastised himself after realizing what he had thought. 'This isn't permanent. The Prof will find a way.'

Habitually, he glanced at what likely was a clock on one of the control panels, but being as yet unfamiliar how Turzents measured time, he couldn't say if it was morning or afternoon. 'Damn aliens!' he snapped, while munching on a cracker at the dining table. His mind drifted. Mistake. Sudden flashes of the previous night sprang up to the fill the void. Hands, touching, probing. The alien mouth – suffocating. Helplessness. Pain. Can't fight! Heart pounding. Panic! Penetration. _Pain._

"_Arrrgh!_" The cry broke out as he gripped his head and gasped for air, trying to stop the flashbacks. 'Breathe…just…breathe!' One shaky breath in, out slowly. Another…in, out. 'Divert your mind – think of something else.' More breaths, deeper. 'The aerie – flying with the eagles. Soaring…happy…free.' He relived the feel of crisp mountain air flowing over his wings and body. Heard the piercing call of the white-headed raptors. He knew them – named them, his brothers and sisters of the wind. Wanbli. Keneu. Wehali.

Breathing steadied. Heart slowed. He dropped his hands to the table and rested his forehead on his crossed arms. 'God, how will I survive this? Will Ztar come every night? Will it always be that bad?' More deep breaths in and out. 'Trauma. Suffering from psychological trauma. Distraction. Need distractions.' Sitting up, he felt light-headed and nauseous. He swept the crackers off the table in sudden agitation. 'What's the matter with you, Worthington? You were raped. It could have been worse. Could have ended up in a lab – a science experiment. Maybe turned into some twisted monstrosity like Apocalypse did. An alien has sex with you and you're falling apart? Suck it up!'

He got up harshly from the table, not caring that his wings knocked over the chair. 'Son of a bitch raped you, he didn't kill you. It was just sex! Forced, yes. Painful. Yup. But just sex!' The pacing began without conscious decision. 'What's getting to you so bad?' Images overwhelmed again without warning. Fingers in feathers, wings spreading wide as the telepath controlled him like a puppet. Mouth opening to offer itself to his attacker. Helpless. Hands squeezing with bruising strength up and down his body, caressing private areas. Pain trailing wherever the alien violated. The room whirled. Warren dropped to his knees, palms to the floor. "S-stop!" Pinned down by invisible restraints. Defenseless. Legs splaying to allow the final violation. '_N-no-o!_'

His stomach rejected the crackers.

Warren sat on the floor for a long time, tears trailing down his cheeks, but he did not sob. Numbness was spreading through him as it had earlier. 'Just turn off, that's good,' he concluded with growing detachment. Then he wondered if female rape victims felt the same things he was feeling. Or was it different for them? Worse, maybe? But he was a man. How are men suppose to react to rape? The same? 'You hardly ever hear of men being raped.' He'd heard it said once that men rarely report the crime – too ashamed. Men aren't supposed to get raped. Men are supposed to be able to fight off attackers. Besides, it is just sex.

'Right.' He said sarcastically and rolled cautiously to his feet. 'What I'm feeling has nothing to do with the sex part. No control. Powerless. Violence. Violation. Humiliation. That's what it's about!'

He walked to the sink and rinsed his mouth of the aftertaste of vomit. Something, anything was needed to keep his mind focused until rescue came. Then inspiration came. He could learn the alien's language. That was something concrete to occupy time and blot out unwelcome memories too painful to keep reliving. The endeavor would be helpful in multiple ways. Yes, he'd concentrate on learning Ztar's language until the X-men came. He'd ask the attendant about it.

Warren pulled himself up short. Sukja was of concern. He knew the alien would be manipulating him. After all, he was Ztar's personal attendant. 'Oh, he _is_ good,' Warren gave him. Sukja had maneuvered Warren to exactly the place Ztar wanted him those first hours. About that, Warren had no doubt.

In turnabout, perhaps he could use Sukja. A personal attendant must be privy to many of Ztar's secrets, and maybe his weaknesses. That, too, would be a worthwhile endeavor to occupy him.

"Good progress," Warren said aloud, pleased with his plans.

###

Carefully watching Archangel's every move was Sukja from the viewscreen in his chambers. The bout of obvious agitation and vomiting were not unusual. The aftermath turmoil needed to be expelled. He'd give the Human enough privacy to do so, but watchful of more ominous backlash.

The attendant gathered up a few things and headed to Archangel's chambers for a quick personal visit just to let the man know he wasn't completely isolated.

###

Archangel wasn't the only one making plans. During those off moments when Ztar wasn't involved in imperial matters, his mind was pulled back to the Human. His body ached for the next interlude. The intensity of that longing gave Ztar pause. One exposure and already he feared uncontrolled obsession. That was something an emperor could not afford. 'Keep it in check!' he commanded himself. 'The anticipating – the waiting – makes it even sweeter,' he offered himself in exchange.

The day seemed endless. He failed the attempt to banish the winged man from daytime thoughts. All Ztar wanted was to be with Archangel. For a day or two, he decided to give himself over to unchecked desires and daydreams – he'd waited too long to not savor the feelings for a while. Then it must end – pleasures and fantasies were for the night and the days for business. Maintaining a clear focus was how he clawed his way to the position of ruler over a far-flung empire; not by succumbing to self-indulgences, but by strength, cunning, and focused intellect free of uncontrolled emotions.

In another decision, Ztar determined the coming night would be more sensual, less frantic, and he indulged in delightful anticipation while ticking off imperial duties. A couple times, he caught an errant smile on his face for no outward reason. He read in the minds of the Mi-Lartui's crew puzzlement as to why their Emperor was in such a pleasant mood, and that made him smile even more.

###

As much as Warren wanted to divert his mind, will failed quickly. His energy reserves seemed exhausted. Lack of caloric intake and a high-speed metabolism wasn't a good combination. Food wouldn't stay down, though, when he forced it. Liquids settled better, and he dragged himself to the cold storage compartment a couple times for fluids, hoping none of it was toxic to Humans. Healing factor would likely deal with any ramifications, but the initial discomfort would add to his overall misery.

The balance of the endless day, he tolerated Sukja's periodic intrusions while he lay, or sat, or curled up lifeless on the window seat, shrouded behind white feathered shields. He gave himself permission to hide like a scared child. For one day, he'd wallow in the shellshock. What would it harm? Actually, he doubted there was anything else he was capable of that day. No energy. No feeling. Mentally numb and unfocused. And when banned memories tried to resurface, he focused on whatever drove them back into the shadows.

And when the lights started dimming in his luxurious prison, his heart clenched and the wings drew in tighter.

###

_A/N: I worked quite a bit on the aftermath of Warren's first night with Ztar – his emotional reactions and thoughts. I think it's better than the original, but then again (thankfully) I've never been raped. Did more research on rape trauma and hope I have it closer to what a victim goes through the first day after such a horrible event. I'm interested to hear how you feel about it. _

_Next chapter is new and there will be an explanation further down the road of why it was added. Until then…_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry I didn't get C4 posted sooner – the week got away on me. So distressing when real life interferes with the escapism of fantasy!_

_My visitor count keeps rising – so exciting that people are finding the story worthy of reading. And, I am even more thrilled at the international response. If you are curious, here's the list thus far of where Warren/Archangel fans call home: Falkland Islands, Germany, India, New Zealand, Norway, Philippines, United Kingdom, and United States. Thank you, everyone!_

_This segment is all new. It was a tough decision whether to write it, but in the end, decided the scene was something that needed to happen. I'll explain more later as to not give anything away now, but know that there was a very specific reason behind it. _

**Chapter 4**

The hunger in Ztar's eyes burned like twin suns – intense and raw – driving dread deep. Warren had seen that kind of uncontrolled, savage lust before and the outcome was never pretty. The emperor had been upon him swiftly that evening, giving Warren no time to protest or evade. Within moments of entering, Ztar had him on the bed and trapped. The frightening part was he could not fight back…the Accord loomed, its dire warnings cornering him into few options. No fight – no flight. Like a caged animal, Warren frantically searched for something, anything to avoid what was coming.

"Ztar, don't – not like this," he pushed against the iron grip around his arms that felt as if it would break bone. "This is rape – it is wrong!"

/ _Submit! _/

The command pierced his brain, causing Warren to jerk at the sting. There was no mercy in the voice, only hot lust. A crushing kiss followed and it felt as though the alien wanted to suck the very life out of him. Bruise atop bruise marred his lips, while groping hands squeezed a wing edge to the point that Warren feared it would fracture. Panicky at the thought, he slammed a fist to Ztar's temple. 'Mistake!' he knew in a microsecond.

Rising up on an elbow with amazing speed, the alien's hand came down around Warren's throat and squeezed until he could barely breathe. Struggling to dislodge Ztar proved ineffective – Warren simply wasn't strong enough, nor could he gain any leverage. Coughing and wheezing with what little air he could suck in, he stilled under the alien's burning glare.

"Have you forgotten what is at stake?" Ztar snarled through clenched teeth. Warren couldn't speak with his throat so close to being crushed and he doubted Ztar even wanted a reply. "Strike me again and you will learn I do not make idle threats." The alien eased the vise-like grip and Warren drew air, but the hand did not leave his neck. Then leaning in very close to Warren's face, Ztar produced a grin that made his blood run cold. "Spread those beautiful wings for me."

Warren's felt his eyes go wide. His precious appendages – the damage the powerful alien could do drove new panic to Warren's core, and he shuddered with a dread he hadn't felt since the savagery endured in the Morlock tunnels.

Ztar read the source of the Human's fear…it was unfounded. He would not damage the pinions – he knew from his probes they were not repairable by the mutant's remarkable healing abilities. Feathers, like hair, were not living tissue.

/ _I wish to enjoy, not injure. Now obey._ /

Instinct screamed to keep the vulnerable wings tucked close, but the firm voice in his head left little doubt as to the consequences of noncompliance. 'Remember Earth…but dear God I don't want to do this!' he pleaded while extending the trembling appendages across the wide bed. Memories of the first night's painful enjoyment replayed and his stomach wretched.

Ztar released the Human's throat and took in the sight. The winged man's magnificence sent tingling shivers down his spine. So like the Esserru! Spread out in all their brilliant white glory, the bed could not contain the wings' breadth, and the ends trailed well beyond the bed. He estimated each wing to be the Human's height plus half again. To witness the man in flight must be breathtaking. In that moment, Ztar vowed he would see that wondrous sight one day.

He did not deny the compulsion that followed to touch their beauty, and he sifted fingers through the white structures, reveling in the delightful diversity of plumage. Drawing a hand down the width of the wing, heat ran from fingertips to groin as the unique sensations of the feathers against skin delighted the senses. Silky vanes, stiff quills, the soft downiness beneath…so many different textures and shapes to be explored within the sensual whiteness.

With each stroke and probe, Warren shuddered and revulsion grew. He hated anyone touching his precious link to flight. He would die to protect them…die without them. He'd viciously rip apart anyone trying to take them from him again. They were his soul given form. Living without riding the winds would be hell on Earth. Yet here he was, forced to allow a sadistic rapist to assault what he held dearer than life.

Hypersensitive membrane was quickly becoming over-stimulated and jolts of pain began to shoot across the wing's expanse into his spine. He tried to draw his legs up in reflexive response, but Ztar's weight was immovable. Clenched fists dug nails into his palms as he refused to give the damnable alien the satisfaction of crying out as the wing escalated its protests.

Ztar sensed the growing discomfort in his captive, but there was no physical harm being caused. Archangel must simply endure. He'd waited too long for a bedmate as wondrously sensual as the man pinned beneath him. Tonight was about exploration and he intended to leisurely examine his new companion fully. He would be merciful, however, and move his journeying elsewhere.

Plunging a hand beneath Archangel's back to where the appendage emerged, he found the joint joining wing to spine – a solid knot of muscle, tendon, and bone that spoke of strength ready to explode into action. He briefly considered the incredible power that allowed Archangel to defy gravity. 'Amazing!'

From the spine joint, the wing rose sharply upward. Curling fingers over the rounded leading edge and closing his eyes, he slowly drew his hand along the rise, relishing every tactile nuance. He massaged and pressed into muscle and tendon and was pleased when Archangel stifled a moan that was not necessarily one of pain. Continuing his feather-paved trek, he followed the wing's arch as it rose to the crown of the man's head where a second joint turned the structure again.

Relief flooded Warren when the hand left the broad expanse of wing, but tension immediately returned as that hand found its way beneath to the wing base and worked up. He kicked himself for the brief moan that escaped. Pleasure blended with disgust and anger as the alien fondled him. 'Bastard!' he thought, before letting lose with a string of silent curses as fingers kneaded the wing's apex using pressure just bordering on painful.

Archangel's trembles and sharp inhales were like bellows fanning desire. Sliding a palm down the sweep of feathers, he buried his face into the arch of wing and breathed in its scent deeply. The undertones of wild animal and musk with the softness of feathers against skin was driving lust beyond wanting of further unhurried discovery. His groin throbbed with need. 'Not quite yet,' he told himself. Diving in for a demanding kiss, he focused on touching every spot within the moist recesses the mouth. The Human tasted so delicious, Ztar believed devouring him was not outside the realm of possibility.

Pressing his bedmate further into the soft depths of the mattress by shifting his full weight atop the man, he began working his way down the perfect form. Releasing the mouth, he suckled the neck, then bit down on the toned shoulder and held the man in his teeth. As Archangel took a sharp inhale, he sunk his teeth in deeper, nearly breaking skin. The man groaned and grabbed the back of Ztar's arms tightly in pain. There would be bruising from the bite, but Ztar knew it would fade quickly from the flawless skin – his second marking would be no more permanent than the first, but no less enjoyable.

In a quick move to layer one delight atop another, he took the wing edge in his mouth and bit down. Archangel yelped and the wing quivered in his mouth, sending erotic waves through Ztar. The Human's cry along with the unusual feel of feathers in his mouth and against teeth stoked already fiery lust into a raging inferno.

"S-stop! You're- hurting- me!" Warren managed to gasp out. When Ztar only continued his assault, Warren tried again. "I'm not r-resisting- arrggh!" The nearly bone-breaking squeeze on Warren's upper arm was too well timed to not be a warning to his protests. "_Why?_" he pleaded to know.

/ _Silence! I will enjoy myself as I desire. Endure without protest or your homeworld will pay for your insolence. _/

The words cut more keenly to the quick than any physical pain the alien was inflicting. Tears of emotional pain and helplessness formed, but Warren refused to let the madman see.

Ztar released the wing and squeezed, bit, massaged, and licked a path down Archangel's body without checking his strength, need growing in his groin to intolerable levels. He ravaged the man, creating pleasure by whatever means satisfied most.

The assault thus far had been painfully drawn out. Ztar was so strong and left a wake of instant bruises; the hurt penetrating to the bone. Throbbing and groaning, Warren imagined viciously killing the alien who was torturing him, but all he could do was lie there. Then a change came over the Turzent and the assault crossed from merely unbearable to excruciating. Survival instincts trumped higher thinking and concerns over Earth became meaningless. Warren's heart pounded, sending adrenalin surging.

By the time he reached to just above Archangel's groin, Ztar was at the point of losing all control. / _I will have you now!_ / he pushed into the Human's mind.

At Ztar's announcement, Warren's feral instincts kicked in, transitioning him into something more akin to a caged and beaten animal. Pain-driven desperation exploded into blinding fight or flight response.

The Emperor lifted himself up to wrest Archangel in the position Ztar's straining shaft needed for satisfaction. Suddenly, the Human became a flurry of fists, punches, and kicks. Unacceptable! A quick peek into the man's mind revealed the actions were not driven by calculated resistance, but by instinctual reflex. 'That will be trained out of you,' Ztar thought of his bedmate. Training takes time, though, and his need for plunging into the tight, warm recesses of the winged man was urgent, so he swatted away the fists with fury and slapped the man hard across the face, causing Archangel to grunt in shock and pain. Having quieted the rebellion, he returned to positioning their bodies to take his companion.

The powerful, nearly bone-breaking hit from Ztar stunned him, but it did momentarily break panic's hold. When Ztar again started to prepare for the final act of rape, it became too much once again. Warren tried to stop the madman from separating his legs, but the Turzent was far too strong. Then he tried twisting away to break free. Blocked. He wrestled desperately, having forgotten about the Accord and Earth and all the people relying on his compliance. All he wanted was escape.

Ztar had had enough. The Human was out of control and he would end that behavior decisively. While the man's struggles angered him, Ztar realized it also aroused him. Archangel was his captured prey, helpless beneath him. A man trained to fight since his youth, mentally tough, a battle-hardened warrior – that was Archangel. Yet that man lay trembling and panicky beneath him. In that moment, Ztar knew what technique he'd employ during their next encounter and it created much anticipation. First, though, he would enjoy simpler pleasures with his indentured bedmate.

Clamps came down hard around Warren's mind and he shuddered at the mental impact. Without consent, his body stilled and more lucid thinking returned. He was immediately as furious at himself for falling into panic as he was with the alien. What kind of X-man was he? / _No!_ / he shouted mentally at the rapist.

Ztar roughly tugged on Archangel hips and knocked his legs wide apart. / _Yes! Do not resist or your world will feel my wrath! _/

Warren's stomach flopped and dread flowed. He quickly realized he was unable to move any extremity as the mental cinch tightened. Time slowed and everything became surreal as Warren watched his attacker maneuver him into final position. Ztar leaned down to look deep into Warren's eyes and smiled with sickening guile.

/ _You are mine. You are to submit. Remember that!_ /

The words cut a debasing swath to his soul. Powerful anguish swelled up and engulfed him as Ztar forced himself within Warren's interior. The penetration was without preparation, just like the first rape, but even more punishing; Ztar's way of literally driving home his point, Warren assumed.

"Ar-r-r-r-gggh!" A cry of pain escaped despite the attempt to stifle it. He felt tearing as flesh gave way to the large intrusion. Then the thrusting began, pounding, unrelenting. Warren was in agony. He wanted to fight, to escape, to stop the pain, but the telepath's mental grip held him down as securely as steel straps.

Liquid warmth ran down into the bed. Without seeing, Warren knew it was blood…he could smell it. That did have a benefit…the blood augmented Ztar's own natural lubrication, ever so slightly easing the stabbing pain of each punishing thrust and withdrawal.

As Warren clenched and groaned his agony, it seemed to spur Ztar on. He strained against the mental controls in vain. His body shook violently from the driving assault. Time stopped as pain, both of the body and the soul, consumed him – there was nothing else.

Ztar held off climax with skill honed over countless sexual forays. The Human felt too wonderful to hurry. With a single mental command, the wings spread once again across the bed in whiteness and glory. The perfect body rocked with his thrusts, causing the waves of richly golden hair to dance and toned muscles to flex and move beneath ivory skin. White. Gold. Ivory. One color missing. Another telepathic nudge and eyelids opened to reveal crystalline blueness. Dullness filled those blue orbs, though. For a moment, Ztar felt saddened that the spark was gone, but then a particularly forceful penetration caused his unwilling lover to bear down reflexively on his shaft. Rapturous bliss evaporated disappointment.

Consciousness was slipping from Warren even as Ztar forced opened his eyes…he welcomed the blissful blackness, yet it remained just beyond his reach. 'Healing factor' flickered through his numbed mind; it was preventing release. Breathing became ragged and he felt nauseous. 'Let it…end soon,' he prayed with the last of his strength.

Suddenly, Ztar's body snapped taut and the man released into him with a booming cry. The fluid burned like fire deep inside Warren and he gasped as the new agony instantly ripped semi-consciousness from him. Too weak to care, he whimpered in defeat. He had survived his second brutal rape.

The pinnacle of sex seized Ztar so hard and so completely he saw brilliant flashes. As he shot his seed into the intimate passageway, he shuddered from the intensity and was overwhelmed by the rapture of the most magnificent and completely fulfilling climax he had ever experienced. It robbed him of breath, of bodily control, of even thought for several mind-blowing seconds.

Ztar extracted himself and lay next to Archangel, trembling from exertion and the explosive release. Closing his eyes, he floated on the afterglow of complete sexual contentment. How long he'd waited for this! The years of failed pairings, the aching unfulfilled need he had endured…it may have all been worth what he had just experienced. A deep sigh that came from his very soul left his lips. 'By the gods, what a gift you have given me! Never in my fantasies had I imagine sex so glorious…so euphoric.'

Eyes still closed, he listened to the ragged breathing of the being next to him that was responsible for his ecstasy. Mixed with the breaths were whimpers and moans that reminded Ztar of the sounds of an injured animal, soft and low as to not attract attention of opportunistic predators.

Archangel would quickly heal from his ravaging – the pain was transitory. Finally, after years of searching, he found someone who could survive his augmented strength and satisfy beyond his wildest dreams. The previous night's encounter had been like the first rain following a long drought. Tonight had been a drought-breaking deluge, and beyond.

Touching the Human's mind, he induced sleep to grant escape from the remnants of pain. Yes, everything about Archangel was glorious. As Ztar rose, he thanked the gods again for delivering to him an oasis in his otherwise personal sexual desert.

###

When Warren woke, it was with the jolt of a nightmare. He had dreamt he was taken captive by a sadistic alien who torturously raped him. Thank God, it was only a dream. He rubbed his pasty eyes then blinked at his surroundings. Unfamiliar! '_Where?_'

As he bolted upright in bed, it all came crashing in. Horrifying memories swamped him and he quaked. 'Oh, God! Oh, God, no…not real, _please!_' he begged. Tears of despair and rage threatened, but he wiped them away before they escaped. 'Suck it up, Worthington. The X-men will come. It's all part of the plan…let Ztar think he won and then steal me back. Xavier and the others – they'll figure out a way. They always do. Just have to hang on until then.'

Steeling himself into a semblance of calm, he took stock of his condition. What he saw made his stomach roll. Dried blood coated where Ztar had brutalized him a second time and the sheet beneath was stiff with it. Aside from the blood, however, all signs of the vicious rape had been erased by his mutant healing factor. All signs, that is, except the fresh damage to feathers. Thankfully, nothing that a serious preening wouldn't fix, but why bother?

Sudden and overpowering feelings of being dirty, even filthy, demanded he wash. First, though, he had to vomit. He didn't make it to the bathroom. He didn't care. Standing on shaky legs in front of the bathroom mirror, the face he saw was not his. Hair matted with dried sweat, a streak of flaking blood across the cheek, crusty eyelids (had he cried in his sleep?), and blue eyes dulled from just two exposures to the alien's depravity. The man staring back at him already looked beaten down.

'You can do this,' he said to the man in the mirror. 'You can survive. Keep yourself together. They're coming.'

Pulling his gaze away from the disturbing reflection, he shuffled to the shower stall and grew quickly frustrated that he still couldn't figure out how the controls worked. 'Damn aliens! Have to make something so simple complicated!' he fumed, hands trembling as he struggled to get the water to flow. 'Just like the fucking clock!' And still the water refused to flow.

"All I want is a goddamn s-shower!" he snarled, yet his voice cracked. He tried to hold it together, tried not to give in to the anguish boiling up. Standing in the bathroom naked, dried blood cracking on his abused body, the vile taste of vomit, wings quivering as a deep cold sank to his core – he really did try. Slamming his fist on the alien controls, the last of his own control shattered and fell away.

"All I-I want is a f-fucking shower," he implored of no one and crumbled to the floor. Random visions hit from all sides. Ztar above him. Ztar's smirk. Ztar's bruising hands on his body, his wings. Ztar's mouth crushing his lips. Ztar pounding into him. Ztar – what Warren wouldn't do to be free to kill the evil bastard slowly and painfully.

Sobs came hard, rocking him with their intensity. He allowed himself the release, not caring about being strong. Quickly he realized he couldn't have halted the crying if he'd tried. Too much torment to be released and once the floodgate was opened.

Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him and he stuffed the sobs with great physical effort. An arm reached over him and turned on the shower. He couldn't look at the man attached to that arm, but he recognized the orange-tinted skin and four-digit hand.

Without a word, the Emperor's servant left as silently as he entered, the bathroom door sliding closed after him. Warren was relieved. He couldn't face anyone at that moment. He didn't bother with any thinking beyond crawling into the spray of water and watching the brown-tinged water swirl away.

###

Minutes earlier, Sukja clicked on the monitor as the computer announced Archangel was waking. He watched as the man shook off sleep, appeared momentarily confused, then looked himself over, only to leap from bed and upchuck halfway to the bathroom. Moments later, he ducked into the bathroom, but the door remained opened.

When Sukja looked at the bed, his heart fell. Ztar had been brutal again despite what the man had shared he planned to be. Sukja closed his eyes in sympathetic pain. It was to be a night of sensuality, the Emperor had said. If only the Turzent could have been gentler. Two nights running he had allowed pent up desire translate to cruelty. How long would the Human hold up under those circumstances? Archangel was still in emotional shock and Ztar had only deepened the trauma.

There were few things in the Emperor's intimate life he did not tell Sukja freely. After all, how else could the Emperor's attendant properly attend to his masters needs? Out of concern for Archangel's mental state, he'd praised Ztar on the wisdom of a gentler encounter. Hope that the sexually frustrated man would be able to follow through had been high. Sadly, the man hadn't been able to hold his dark side in check. Sukja would advise caution yet again at the next opportunity and offer up a prayer for both Ztar and Archangel's sake the Emperor could act on the advice.

Ruminations were interrupted by Archangel's outburst about wanting a shower and Sukja realized he hadn't shown the Human how to use the facility. Rising, he made his way quickly to Archangel's chambers knowing that little frustrations can escalate to become unbearable when one is already at the end of your emotional endurance.

As feared, when he arrived, Archangel was crumbled and sobbing on the floor. He would not add to the man's distress, so he simply reached over the shaking figure, activated the water flow, and left. Archangel needed privacy, needed to collect himself using his own inner resolve. Psychologically, it was important if the man was going to last more than a few days without breaking.

While Archangel showered, Sukja summoned housekeeping to clean the bed and the mess on the floor.

###

The Emperor gazed out his star cruiser's large window that spanned the length of his ready room. Star streaks sliced the blackness of space, the sign Mi-Lartui was racing through space at faster-than-light travel. He tried to imagine the boundaries of the empire he had taken for his own, and then expanded far beyond its old reach. The self-proclaimed monarch had even given his rebirthed realm a new name…Turzent Empire. So far had the realm spread from its origins in the Ta'oc star system that the name had become outmoded. His people, the Turzents, had looked to distant suns and never back, spreading their dominance over many alien worlds. Renaming the realm after the species that forged it seemed appropriate at the time.

Time changes all things, though. With so many species, willing and not so willing, calling the Empire home, the name felt overtly exclusive. Turzent Empire smacked of species arrogance – of dominance. Ztar himself had changed over the past 15 years of emperorship. A need to leave behind a legacy more enduring than conquest was taking root. Perhaps it was time for another rebirth…a name more inclusive. 'Someday,' he promised himself.

At the moment, though, the Emperor had more pressing concerns. Stepping away from the window, he moved to his desk to sit and lay out in his mind what he'd learned in morning staff briefings, other reports, and the comnet newsfeeds. Most of the troublesome issues weren't new – same problem planets/species, same bellyaching by the same system representatives. However, Commonwealth activity was a different story. Military Intelligence briefings submitted by Commander Polzjen had expressed heightening concerns over intel coming out of that neighboring realm. The newer holders of power in their unified governing body seemed on a mission to destroy the policy of tolerant co-existence between dominions.

The Systems Commonwealth was a collective of sovereign worlds associated mostly by choice with a joint military. Commonwealth space was located some distance from the Turzent Empire. Both realms were well aware of each other, but the galaxy was large enough for two. Aside from mutual spying, the two managed to avoid conflicts and confrontations for many years, neither wanting to expend resources against their equanimous neighbor. But time changes things.

The shift in Commonwealth foreign policy began roughly a year earlier. A year of increasing prickliness now lay between them. A year of escalating subterfuge. Tensions mounted by the month beneath the public's awareness. The situation between the Commonwealth and the Empire was building toward critical mass. Ztar felt compelled to comm his head of Military Intelligence.

"Greetings, my Emperor. You look very well!"

Ztar couldn't suppress a small grin. "I am feeling quite…fulfilled of late in the area of a personal matter, General." He let the smile drop away. "However, after Polzjen's latest intel brief, I feel far from content with imperial matters. What is our good neighbor up to?" he asked with biting sarcasm.

General let out an uncharacteristic sigh. "That is exactly what our agents are attempting to discern, but thus far, we are seeing the symptoms of a change in policy, but not a definition of the policy itself. What baffles is the seeming illogic of activity attributable to their operatives…almost schizophrenic behavior."

"Any chance we've got a rogue cell operating without sanction from Commonwealth Intelligence?" Ztar knew it was unlikely, but it needed to be considered.

"Doesn't appear to be case. In my opinion, we are seeing the outward signs of continuing shifts within their power structure. As you know, the elections a year-plus ago ushered in a stronger central government agenda."

"And apparently a stronger interference policy as well! My fears may be becoming reality. This is why we pushed so hard to strengthen the Empire. For far too long, we were the weaker neighbor. Too vulnerable. No longer. They will not find us a small morsel to swallow!"

"Which, if I may speak freely…" The General paused, the image on Ztar's viewscreen tilting its head indicating the man wished to point something out the Emperor might not wish to hear. Ztar gave the nod. Why would he not? Ztar depended on his key staff to be forthright. "It's that fact which may give those coming into power the support they need. Feed the populace fears of foreign aggression and they gladly offer up their allegiance to those who offer promises of protection."

Ztar sighed. He knew all too well of what the top intelligence general spoke. "Our conquests are being used as propaganda."

His fellow Turzent upturned a hand in agreement. "Despite our territorial additions being away from the Commonwealth space and that we've given them no reason to believe we are a threat."

"And we aren't! I've gone out of my way to demonstrate that." The heat of anger was beginning rise. "I have no desire to cross swords with them. There is room enough for both of us in the Mi-Tzanti Galaxy. We are of near equal strength. To initiate a confrontation with us would be foolhardy."

"Indeed, but if they can erode our strength from within…"

"All we built could collapse," Ztar sighed deeply. "That is the weakness of forced together worlds, is it not? The most common bond between many of our systems is that of being conquered races."

"The worlds of the old Ta'oc Empire are well adjusted – those conquests were 150 years ago. Their loyalty is solid."

"They are but 59 inhabited worlds, General. What of the 12 realms I've added? They represent over 70 populated worlds and how many different species? Hatred still runs deep within many, despite all we've done to reconcile. Many worlds still require an iron grip."

"But what of the worlds that have come to realize the benefits of imperial membership? We offer strength, stability, economic prosperity that, as small collectives and independent systems, they could never replicate."

Folding muscular arms across his broad chest, the ruler of the Turzent Empire shook his head slightly. "The path of self-reassurance is well worn, General."

The General leaned toward the screen. "True, but sometimes we must remind ourselves that we are not the cold-hearted conquerors some portray us to be. Under your reign, we have often given more than we've taken. The galaxy is a dangerous place for those too weak to defend themselves, as you've said many times. Peace and security always come at a price. Yours is not the highest demand ever dictated. The wise understand that."

"Yet many would welcome Commonwealth rule and my death."

Gtar-Cro's image grew slightly smaller as the man settled back into his chair that sped through space aboard his cruiser in another part of the realm. "Sometimes the fire of another's camp looks warm and inviting from a distance to the weary traveler on a cold night. When you arrive, you see it is fueled by grass and twigs – all light, little warmth. A lure to pull in the easily fooled, but by then it is too late to escape the trap."

Ztar recognized the old parable, and nodded understanding. A tale of warning told to young and inexperienced travelers in times long ago. To some in his realm, The Systems Commonwealth indeed may appear a warm, welcoming fire – but beware the thief in the night. Something sinister was stirring in that realm.

"Which brings us back to the Commonwealth. Why do they fear us? Why are they meddling in our affairs? To what end?" Anger wished to show itself again.

"That remains the question. The newly empowered in their government point out that with our continued growth, we will soon surpass their strength ...that we – _you_ – may then become tempted to make a bid for their territories. That may truly be the reason for their current activities, but intelligence reports hint that may be simply a public facade to a more malevolent intent."

"Find out, General. We must know their true objective and its source. If it is indeed as they publicly assert, our diplomats will be called upon to ease their fears."

"And if they mean to unravel us?"

"Then our neighbor has a zaspar in their midst," Ztar analogized, referring to a creature from Turzent legend that twisted people's souls into seeing enemies where none existed and credited with starting unexplainable hostilities. "First, though, cut through the rhetoric, General. Uncover the face of my true foe. Meanwhile, we do nothing to escalate the situation. I will not waste energy or resources fighting meaningless skirmishes of veiled intent."

"Yes, my Emperor."

"Make sure their spies and leaders understand our eyes are cast elsewhere – their domain holds no appeal for me."

Gtar-Cro signaled acknowledgment, but Ztar read the subtle signs of dubiousness others would miss.

"As we always have, though our reassurances of late are scoffed by their newly empowered."

Ztar tensed. Did the shift within the Commonwealth power structure run deeper than they first believed? "Have our friends been silenced?"

A rare frown knitted the General's usually stoic countenance. "Silenced? No. In danger of being drowned out? Yes, but quietly so. Our diplomats are concerned those within their government who have always spoken on the side of peaceful coexistence are being portrayed as naïve pacifists."

"Damn the gods!" Ztar rose sharply; reignited agitation needed a physical outlet. "But _why? _The question must be answered. Their actions make no sense. I can see no logic – no strategic reasoning – no advantage to turning us into an enemy!" He fumed while pacing off the tension.

"Fear can make even the most seasoned soldier act irrationally. The key is to find the source of that fear. MI and our diplomats are tasked accordingly."

Ztar walked back and forth in his ready room in silence for many moments. The Commonwealth's escalating interference and meddling was baffling. Its very nature was disturbing – disjointed, contradicting…on the surface appearing fragmented. Opposing internal forces? A power struggle within the Commonwealth between the old and new regimes? Old being pro status quo and new bent on destabilizing a perceived potential threat? The Emperor halted in his tracks and turned back to the viewscreen. "Find me that zaspar, General Gtar-Cro. I will instruct our diplomats to talk with our old friends openly of our concerns. Meanwhile, any of their operatives caught instigating or participating in unrest are to be returned to their realm unharmed, but with this warning: We are not the enemy – look within."

Ztar disengaged the highly secure, military interstellar comlink. Day on Mi-Lartui was drawing to end. Leaving the ready room, he nodded to her captain as he exited the bridge. 'Time to leave troubles on deck one. "Deck two," he commanded the lift, and the ship obeyed, easing the carriage down a level. Stepping onto the private Imperial deck, Ztar's thoughts turned to more pleasurable concerns.

On the third night with his new companion, Ztar would employ a favorite technique. Developed with previous bedmates, the telepathic technique forced his bedmate to mentally experience the pleasure Ztar himself was enjoying while his bedmate also experienced the encounter from their own perspective…deliciously voyeuristic and always physically and mentally rewarding for Ztar as he reveled psychically in dual and often sharply contrasting emotions.

Ztar admitted the technique did not come without risks, as his attendant had cautioned with deep concern earlier that day. In fact, Sukja had issued the strongest warning he'd heard from the attendant in quite some time. Yet he knew Archangel's mind was sturdy and believed the risk level was acceptable. He told Sukja as much.

"I want to experience everything with him – to be with him every way I know and I want it now. I want him to experience my desire – to know its intensity. There's so much to make up for – so much I've been denied. I will wait no longer," he'd declared with firmness that communicated the decision was not open to debate. "He has survived far worse – I've seen his memories. Archangel is strong."

Still his long-time attendant issued warnings, going so far as risking Ztar's irritation, but Ztar was convinced the concerns were overstated. He'd seen Archangel's most horrifying memories – if the Human could survive those experiences intact, what Ztar planned was almost trivial. And so it was with almost jittery anticipation that Ztar wrapped up the day's responsibilities and proceeded to his chambers.

###

_A/N: Explanation of this added chapter will come after Chapter 6…the rest of the sequence needs to play out first. Hang in there. _

_Would love to hear from everyone reading, but I know some of you are shy about that. I don't bite, really I don't. _; ) _If you rather not post a public review, you can always PM me with your comments or questions. _

_With that, I'll say goodbye until Chapter 5. _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thought I should post another chapter on the heels of C4 since I asked you to withhold judgment on C4 until the "sequence" is over. By that, I meant Warren's first few days in the tender mercies of Ztar. _

_[For those of you reading this version of Sacrifice and did not read the original, C4 didn't exist in the old version.]_

**Chapter 5**

Sukja spent most of the day in and out of Archangel's chambers, never wanting to leave the Human alone very long. He made excuses for the visits, bringing food, clothes, toiletries, whatever came to mind. It was likely obvious to Archangel what he was doing, but that was fine. Each new item gave him a chance, however brief, to engage the Emperor's newest companion in conversation.

Sukja was impressed at how well the Human was holding up. Perhaps Ztar was right about the strength of the Human's psyche. Archangel seemed adept at distraction, a good coping technique. He spent quite a bit of time absorbed in the computer. It had proved to be a good diversionary tool for bedmates in the past, as well. The vast amounts of information available through the ship's comnet link and onboard databanks could satisfy a curious mind for years.

The attendant was also worried. He had tried to dissuade Ztar from employing his duality technique so soon. It was always risky. Ztar shared much with Sukja about every companion he acquired. That morning, the Emperor freely admitted he had not held back the prior night. Knowing Ztar's physical strength and pent up desires, and hearing that Ztar took full advantage of the Human's powerful healing abilities, meant Archangel had likely endured more than previous bedmates and survived intact.

The man was going through a traumatic experience, ripped from everything he knew and essentially enslaved. Archangel's first two evenings with the Emperor deepened and intensified the psychological wounds, as it would in any unwilling bedmate. Even Ztar's _willing_ bedmates were often traumatized by his intensity. Add to that the Emperor's unbridled enthusiasm for his newest acquisition, and Archangel was almost certainly in mental shock.

Despite Sukja's expressed reservations, the Emperor would not reconsider his plans. The attendant could only hope the Human's mind was as strong as Ztar believed. Meanwhile, Sukja would do all he could to make certain Archangel was as emotionally stabilized as was possible under the circumstances.

###

Sukja kept coming in to check on him with lame excuses. It was obvious they didn't trust him to be alone for more than a short time. 'Concerned about my mental state, you mother-fucking royal pimp?' he lashed out silently with bitter sarcasm. 'Fuck you!'

Since there was nothing Warren could do about the intrusions, he let the attendant do what he thought he needed to do. The alien attempted to engage him in conversation whenever he appeared. Despite plans to pump Sukja for information, he couldn't bring himself to do so as yet. Talking required more effort than he felt capable of, at least for the time being, and he responded to the attendant with as few words as possible, and sometimes not at all.

Between the annoying visits, he did exactly what he felt Sukja was attempting – take stock of his emotional status. Warren was no stranger to the affects of physical and mental trauma – the loss of his original wings and Apocalypse's tender mercies were just two examples of his firsthand experience. Having been there before, he recognized the symptoms – numbness, denial, a sense of surreality, wildly vacillating emotions when he did feel something other than deadness. Keeping his mind busy was good a coping strategy until the worst of the shock passed. Unlike the first two days of captivity, Warren felt he could actually concentrate on something for more than a few minutes.

The computer seemed to want to please him and provide what it could within Warren's security clearance, and he had tested those limits. Requests for the ship schematics and medical data on the Emperor were politely but firmly denied. Information of a benign nature flowed to him freely. In fact, the interface actually suggested topics than might be of interest to someone new to the empire. Had it been programmed to be specifically helpful to him? Sukja or someone had obviously programmed it to display/understand/speak English. As he became more adept at navigating the computer, he learned that tutorials for the Turzent Empire's official language, Imperial Turzent, were indeed available.

'Tomorrow the language lessons start.'

He continued to explore the alien realm through his portal. The distraction was just what he needed. "Show me information on the Turzent Empire," he commanded the interface.

"Perhaps you would like to learn of the Empire's many member species?" it queried in its attempt to be helpful.

"Why not. Show me a list." Immediately, a lengthy roster popped up on the screen.

"Species are listed in order of their membership date using Imperial commonized names."

He didn't know that a commonized name was, but he'd get to that. "What species is Emperor Ztar?"

"The Emperor is Turzent."

"What about his attendant, Sukja?"

"Ozjaerian."

"Why is everyone referred to as Turzent regardless of their species?"

"All citizens of the Turzent Empire are referred to as Turzent."

It was as Warren had concluded. "What did you mean by commonized species name?"

"When a world joins the Empire, whatever the inhabitants called themselves previously is discarded. The old Ta'oc Empire standardized species names to simplify identification. A species is referred to by the planet or star system of their origin. Emperor Ztar continued that practice when he came into power."

"How long has Ztar been emperor?"

"Emperor Ztar's rule began 15 imperial standard years, plus 49 standard days from today's date."

"How long is a standard year?" As soon as he asked, he knew the question was faulty.

"405 imperial standard days."

"No, I mean how long compared to an Earth year?"

There was a pause in the reply. "No information found on location named Earth. Clarify, please."

"You're speaking my language! How can you not know about Earth?" he snapped, irritation rising.

"Working." There was a momentary pause. "The language native to your person was downloaded into this interface. However, there is no data available as to its origin."

"Forget it!" he huffed. Then he was curious. "What species is my person?"

"No available data."

"Who or what am I then?"

"You are Archangel, personal property of Emperor Ztar."

The device hit the floor violently, but did not break as he had hoped. He almost expected the damnable thing it to issue a reprimand, but it laid there silently. After several minutes of fuming and pacing, Warren picked up the terminal and returned it to the desktop.

'Let's try this again, but safer subjects.' He reviewed species profiles, planetary and star system descriptions, and the condensed version of Turzent Empire history. Occasionally, he grabbed a snack and water, but his appetite hadn't really returned. He knew he was losing weight – not good for someone with no fat reserves, but he found he didn't care enough to force himself to eat more.

###

It was late in the day and Warren was so absorbed in the computer, he didn't notice the dimming lights or Ztar's stealth entrance.

"Your Emperor has entered the room," Ztar announced flatly.

Warren jumped. 'Not again!' Immediately, he wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Heart rate skyrocketed in the space of a beat, causing momentary dizziness. Warren gripped the edge of the desk. Could he handle another night with Ztar and stay sane? He wasn't sure.

"Rise in the presence of your Emperor."

Warren hesitated, a shudder running the length of his body. 'Can't do this again! Dear God…'

"Now," Ztar demanded sternly, an eyebrow cocked.

Reminding himself of the treaty requirements, Warren obeyed. His knees, though, nearly gave out and he was forced to keep one hand on the desk for support. 'Steady, flyboy. Don't let this guy rattle you,' he coached himself while trying to rein in escalating dread.

"Face me," came the second command. Harder, but Warren did as ordered, looking slightly down. He couldn't bring himself lock eyes with the man who had done, would do, things to him that he had no control over. He wasn't yet strong enough. 'I will look you in the eye again soon, bastard,' Warren vowed to himself. He grew sick as he felt the alien's hungry gaze travel over his body.

The brute closed the distance with long, eager strides. Warren willed himself to hold his ground, but as Ztar stopped close, the man's nostrils actually flared and a shiver of trepidation ran down Warren's spine. Ztar's left hand came up causing Warren to wince at the quick move. The hand stopped mid motion an inch from Warren's cheek as if waiting for him to still, then came in gently on the side of Warren's face. Ztar cupped his head briefly, then slowly slid the hand down Warren's neck, shoulder, and farther to where wing and back met. Warren shuddered. The Emperor's heated breath washed over him.

Ztar enjoyed the shudders Archangel was trying to suppress as he moved his hand across the leading edge of the wing up to the peak where he applied steady downward pressure on the wing arch.

Warren resisted the wing extension Ztar obviously desired. He wanted so much to punch out the alien…to smash his arrogant mug into the floor of his Imperial cruiser and beat the life out of him. It was a physical effort to not take a swing at him, but the threat to Earth loomed. 'Don't risk Earth…don't risk Earth,' he kept reminding himself, but he didn't want to extend the wing. He didn't want the rapist to touch any part of him.

Keeping a palm on the wing, Ztar grabbed and pulled Archangel's chin with his other hand and looked directly into the crystalline-blue eyes that glinted with anger and something else. "Do not defy me," Ztar said sternly and released Archangel's jaw.

Archangel obeyed. The Emperor drew his hand down following the spread of feathers. Where the wing membrane ended, he pushed between the feathers and continued to explore. The feel of the plumage between his fingers was silky, yet stiff at the same time. It was sensual and exotic. Desire flared. He could not image any other being more seductive.

Warren's best attempt to stifle the trembling failed. The wings were very sensitive. It was that sensitivity that made him such a magnificent flier. Finely tuned nerves sensed each subtle air current and minute shifts in air flow, allowing Warren to develop incredible aerial maneuverability. Those hypersensitive nerves telegraphed every nuance of Ztar's fondling as loathing became so intense Warren could taste it.

Ztar drew Archangel into his arms and Human's mouth to his. With one hand behind Archangel's head, he kept their mouths together in spite of Archangel's reflex to pull back. He ran his tongue across Archangel's teeth as a message to open his mouth. When Archangel refused, Ztar squeezed the back of his head hard to express displeasure.

Images of the previous night came flooding back. 'Bad dream – it's all a bad dream…' Loathing was giving way to a growing panicky need to escape – his mind screaming to fight off the aggressor. He felt Ztar's tongue and knew what he wanted. '_No!_' Warren's whole being shouted.

/ _Yes!_ / Ztar's mental voice commanded sharply.

'Goddamn telepathy!'

Ztar got what he wanted and his kissing went deep, probing, and long. A free hand roamed Archangel's body enjoying its lean contours through the loungewear. 'The clothing won't last long,' Ztar promised himself.

The longer the kissing and the more aggressive the roving hands became, the more Warren's thin mental footing eroded. Flashes of the two previous brutal assaults lashed him, blending with the savage kiss Ztar was inflicting. He tried to push down the images as instincts screamed to fight back. The more he fought not to fight, the more trapped he felt, feeding right into the panicky need to escape – to fight. He was spinning in an endless, accelerating loop. Just as Warren felt feeble control slip, the suffocating kiss ended.

Ztar pulled back, still holding firmly onto Archangel's waist and head. He looked down into the blue orbs that darted away to avoid meeting his gaze. Empathic senses telegraphed the turmoil within the man, fulfilling Ztar's craving for resistant submission. Subtle quivers rippling through the winged creature trapped within his grasp ignited a fire in his groin that stole breath and sent shivers racing through his own body.

"Now we go to bed," Ztar informed his captive, and released the Human.

Warren's dread escalated, just as Ztar suddenly detached, causing him to nearly collapse. His legs shook. It hadn't registered that Ztar had been holding him up until then. Grabbing the desk beside him halted a descent to the floor. He would be enduring another rape and he wasn't sure he could do it. 'Dear God, how did my life come this?' To save a planet, he had to allow himself to be sexually assaulted. Not just raped, but brutalized. For how long? When would rescue come?

'Just get through the next hour. Think of nothing beyond that,' he ordered himself as bile rose in his throat.

Ztar moved to the bed, tossed back the linens, and sat down facing Archangel. "Come."

He stole a look at the bed where the alien would again inflict pain and humiliation. Panicky waves washed through him again and he fought against himself. 'Suck it up! Earth is depending on you…' he attempted to strengthen his resolve, but the words only solidified the reality of his entrapment. To save Earth, he had to submit to sexual torture – had to willingly walk into the arms and bed of his tormentor. Warren wasn't sure his legs would hold him up, so he remained still, anticipating an impatient response, but Ztar remained silent. Warren guessed why. He extended his mind out toward Ztar. / _You're reading me?_ / he offered the question into mental space.

/ _Yes. When your legs will hold you, come to me._ /

Then the presence in Warren's mind left. 'Remember the disassociation techniques Xavier taught – they'll help.' Brief flashes of other times he needed to use what his mentor had wisely taught his five teenage students all those years ago…how to go away in your mind. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it hadn't. A minute later, Warren made his way dutifully to Ztar against every instinct and nature of who he was.

The Emperor watched as Archangel collected himself, taking in every detail of the body that would soon lie beneath him. A surprisingly delicate frame for a man, but he knew it was far stronger than it appeared. Toned and muscular, but not overly so. Ztar's previous explorations of the Human found not a single blemish marring the body. A warrior with no battle scars. The healing ability, Ztar guessed. The handsome visage attached to that flawless body was definitely male, yet with an almost feminine beauty and softness. It was as if nature blended the best of both genders into one individual. When Archangel finally approached, Ztar noted the natural grace with which the Human moved and held himself. Perfection that was impossible to take your eyes off.

Ztar stood as Archangel reached him, grasped the mutant by the waist, and lifted him up. 'Light for his size.' He maneuvered the man over the bed and laid him down. Anticipation alone nearly made him cum.

As the alien positioned his large frame over him and tore off Warren's top, he began to detach from what was happening. Grabbing a particularly vivid memory of flying over a mountain valley in summer near his Colorado aerie, Warren focused on remembering as many details as he could – the sensations, scenery, and smells. The technique taught by Xavier was often employed by torture victims – a means of escaping the inescapable.

/ _A beautiful memory, but stay with me, Archangel,_ / the voice in his head interrupted.

/ _?_ /

/ _I want you here with me. I want you to experience what I experience…to feel what I feel._ / Ztar's projected not only his voice, but his lust as well. The combination sent shudders through the lithe frame beneath.

'God, what is that?' Warren tried to turn his mind away from the sexual hunger that coiled through his brain, but could not.

Ztar explored Archangel's neck with his mouth while one hand rubbed up and down the man's thigh and side. Archangel tried to break away from the mental hold, but Ztar easily prevented it. He continued to feed his bedmate's mind the building desire and physical sensations as Ztar experienced them. Archangel groaned.

/ _Stop it!_ / Warren tried to block the mental force-feeding, but the Emperor's telepathy was too powerful.

The Emperor moved up to gently bite Archangel's lips. Running fingers over and through silky feathers, Ztar followed the wing's structural contour to where feather met skin and squeezed hard. Archangel inhaled sharply and his body rose up involuntarily to press against Ztar's firm chest. As desire exploded, he transferred it to Archangel and was rewarded with a low guttural sound from the man's throat.

/ _I want you – all of you! Everything!_ / Burning hunger was escalating faster than Ztar believed possible, and he pushed all of it into the consciousness of his bedmate.

/ _Don't do this…it's- it's too much!_ / Warren projected, but his plea went unacknowledged.

Ztar began more urgent explorations. Shoving Archangel down deeply into the plush bed, he found the perfectly formed lips again and encompassed them into his mouth. When he finished a long, deep exploration, he moved up slightly and kissed the curving arch of one wing. Shivers ran through the trapped man as Ztar continued kissing down the wing's leading edge. Feather on lip was amazingly sensual. He funneled those sensations into the feebly protesting mind.

/ _Time to finish disrobing, my bedmate. _/ Ztar proceeded to tear off the remaining clothing from both their bodies. After wedging a knee between Archangel's thighs, the ravaging began in earnest as he flooded the man mentally with all the delights the Human's delicious body provided.

Warren was reeling. The overlay of Ztar's sensory experience on top of the painful physical sensations of his own body was overwhelming in itself. Add the emotional maelstrom from yet another rape clashing against Ztar's carnal lust thrusting into his mind, and it was sensory overload.

"No more…please!" Warren managed to force the words out through the chaos of emotion and sensation engulfing him from all directions – physical and mental.

Ztar vaguely heard the plea, but he tossed it aside. Lust and desire engorged him in ever increasing intensity as he took in more of his unwilling lover both in the flesh and telepathically. He breathed in Archangel's scent – flesh and feather. Marveled at the smoothness of skin, the firmness of body, the silky sensuality of feathers beneath probing fingers. Beauty beyond any Ztar had laid eyes on before. All of it he poured into Archangel's mind. Then as an experienced psychic voyeur, Ztar drank in Archangel's duality experience. The mental anarchy was intoxicating.

/ _Stop! Too much – don't…_ / he projected desperately. Warren's mind wanted to run from the bombardment – too many opposing inputs, but Ztar wouldn't allow that. Intense pleasure mixed with throbbing pain as Ztar mauled him physically. Driving desire collided with repulsion. Overwhelming need with anguish and helplessness. Warren thought his mind would split in two. Breaths came in gasps and gulps. He pleaded again for Ztar to stop, _begged_ him, but Ztar did not respond. Warren tried to repel and deflect the assault, anything to lessen the pain that clashed agonizingly with pleasure the Emperor was feeding mentally. 'Too strong…can't stop him,' his mind informed itself in defeat.

His bedmate's attempt to fight only served to spur him. Uncontrolled lust burned white hot. Deeper, harder, longer over every millimeter of his captive.

Unchecked physical strength translated even the most sensual acts into excruciating pain and he nearly convulsed beneath his tormentor. Only Warren's fast-acting healing abilities kept him from succumbing to serious injury.

Death would have been welcomed. His mind overloaded, cohesive thought eluded him. No longer able to orchestrate any defensive moves, reflex and instinct took over in an attempt to ward off the most pain-filled of Ztar's acts. None of it had any affect. All Warren's defenses were merely brushed aside as minor annoyances. Finally, he resisted no longer…pleaded for mercy no more. Body and mind surrendered to the agony and chaos.

'This will not end!' Ztar gave himself permission to continue. He became only the need, the desire, the pleasure. 'Take!' he told himself, caring little when the last of Archangel's resistance evaporated. Instead he took full control of the mind/body and it became a marionette to control for his pleasure.

Consciousness registered the change of command, but Warren no longer cared. Letting go allowed him to slip further away, deeper into his mind to escape the inescapable.

And still he continued. Ztar ravaged Archangel's body, doing whatever he needed to bring ever increasing sexual satisfaction. By the gods, he could not get enough! He wanted to be lost within the ecstasy – so much fulfillment. Never had he experienced such intense, raw, maddening bliss. It consumed him. None of his other bed partners would have survived to this point – too frail in body and/or mind. Ztar was out of control and he reveled in it. He felt young again. He felt animalistic! As Ztar reached peak desire, he thrust himself physically and mentally into Archangel over and over, paying no heed to the need of the man's body for preparation – all that mattered was fulfilling his own body's demand for penetration and climax.

Warren cried out in new pain as Ztar entered him with forceful suddenness that broke through the veil of detachment. Violent shudders shook him from the continued physical/psychic assault. The pain/rapture collision was beyond what could be endured. Survival instinct shut down his cognitive mind as much as the mental restraints would allow.

Climax seized Ztar, sending spasms of rapturous release reverberating through him as his sex cry echoed through Archangel's chambers. Gradually regaining control over himself, he realized with a pang he may have forced Archangel's psyche too far. The Human was on the verge of unconsciousness, yet whimpering as his body quaked in residual spasms under the Emperor. He pulled slowly away mentally and physically. Completely spent, Ztar lay half atop Archangel for several minutes unable to move.

When he could manage it, Ztar rose up on one elbow and looked down at Archangel. With gentle strokes of an outstretched wing and the contorted face, he tried to soothe and quiet. Mentally, Ztar sent feelings of calm. He would maintain an empathic connection with the man for the next many hours as a precautionary measure, but not telepathically intrude the brutalized psyche, fearful of the results. A minute later, Ztar induced deep, dreamless sleep, eased from the bed, and returned to his chambers. As before, he telepathically summoned his attendant. Sukja had a lot of work ahead of him, the Emperor told himself with some trepidation.

###

It was always bad after the Emperor employed his voyeuristic technique. A few didn't survive and fell into insanity or a catatonic state. He had implored Ztar to wait a bit; allow Archangel more time to acclimatize. Sukja saw such promise in Archangel to provide satisfaction and fulfillment for the long term; he didn't want the Emperor to jeopardize it too hastily. But Ztar wouldn't hear of waiting. His needs had gone too long without release. Archangel was strong, Ztar had told Sukja. He would survive. Sukja fervently hoped the telepath was right.

Sukja wasn't sure how much time had past before he was summoned, making it difficult to know how far any physical recovery had progressed. No outward signs of injury were visible on the exposed arms, leg, and face, so at minimal, superficial damage had passed. Remembering the attack after the first night, Sukja did not touch Archangel as he carefully laid a blanket over the sheet already covering most of the sleeping Human…extra warmth to encourage a long slumber. Sleep is a gentle healer of many things, the attendant believed.

Moving to the kitchen area, he brewed a pot of his favorite beverage to be ready when Archangel awoke – a custom-blended and particularly soothing tanquer root tea. He hoped Archangel slept through the remainder of the night, but there was no way to know as induced sleep was unpredictable in its longevity. In the meantime, he'd enjoy rereading one of the many classic writings from his personal library. Prepared for a long vigil, Sukja got comfortable in the sitting area and turned on his personal interface, or PI as it was called, to indulge in a favorite pastime until Archangel woke. Then he would deal with whatever aftermath visited upon the Human.

###

Ztar couldn't stop thinking of Archangel. Although exhausted in that 'feels good' type of tired, he could not sleep. The vivid memories of the pleasures and sensations aroused him again. Then earlier thoughts of obsession stirred, but he wasn't certain he cared anymore if he fell head long into it. Just three nights with Archangel and he was ready to lose himself to his companion's appeals. He pulled himself up short.

'Think, mighty Emperor!' he reprimanded. 'Control yourself or all could be lost.' But the sensations and sexual fulfillment were indescribable. How could he fight such a powerful elixir? 'With reason and discipline. Just like you always have,' he countered. 'Archangel may be perfection and everything you've wanted, but he is still only a bedmate; one facet of your life. Enjoy the nights; then focus on the days. Do not lose yourself to the lust. Control your emotions, Turzent!'

And then with a determination of will that had taken him from humble poverty to interstellar emperor, Ztar forced himself to think of other things until sleep finally took him.

###

Consciousness tried to force itself to the surface of Warren's mind. A pleasant scent filled his nostrils. Sounds of quiet movement. A barely there background hum. Sensations of discomfort from beneath him came next, but he couldn't place it. His head throbbed. Then nothingness again.

Attempt two met with better success. The discomfort emanating from his back and wings was clear; he needed to roll onto his side.

Sukja put down the interface unit when Archangel moved. It had been a few hours since he was summoned to the man's side and was that time when night and very early morning began to blend. He watched to see if the Human could pull himself from sleep. Perhaps a verbal nudge?

"Archangel, can you hear me?" Sukja asked from the safety of the chair.

No immediate response. Then a soft moan and a slow stretching of wings moved the bedcovers nearly pulling them from the naked body beneath.

Tingling and increasing discomfort spread through his wings as the circulation returned. Warren was not designed to lie for long periods on his back no matter how luxurious the bed, but the pain served to push him closer to awareness.

Sukja got up, poured a cup of tea, and walked it over to the bedside table.

Warren heard the activity and the soothing aroma became more pronounced. Another sensation to follow to consciousness.

Sukja pulled an outfit from the wardrobe and placed it in the bathroom. He prepped the bath in the same manner as before – shower running, heat turned up. Returning to the bed area, Sukja spoke more firmly. "You need to wake up, now. Do you understand?" It surprised him when the Human nodded.

Warren focused on the voice and the ache in his head for the last pull to wakefulness. Opening his eyes, the room gradually came into focus. Slowly, carefully, he sat up. The tingling and pain in his wings quickly faded, but his head was another matter. Being upright increased the pain sharply and Warren rubbed his temples.

Sukja immediately recognized the sign – an aftereffect of Ztar's mental voyeurism usually was an intense headache, yet the frown of discomfort eased almost immediately.

"Does your head hurt?" Sukja inquired.

"Not anymore," came the muttered reply that Sukja nearly couldn't make out.

With no further explanation forthcoming from Archangel, Sukja assumed the healing ability dealt with that last physical remnant of Ztar's attentions.

Warren felt strange – as if he wasn't real. 'Still sleeping?' he wondered, blinking to rid his eyes of dryness. The sensation was odd, like being outside himself. He felt no emotion. Numbness seemed to permeate to his very soul. Memories of what happened lurked around the edges in brief images that flashed by too quickly to comprehend. Something told him not to let them congeal.

Sukja picked up the tea and offered it to the Human. "This is tea – it will help."

Warren wasn't sure about that, but he took the cup as it would give him something to concentrate on to keep the threatening memories at bay. He focused on the hot liquid with his whole being. Its multi-layer aroma reminded him of jasmine and – what? Ginger? Perhaps, but with a touch of pepper maybe. The Professor or Hank may have been able to better pinpoint the scents, both being tea aficionados. The thought of friends sent a shot of hurt through Warren's chest. 'Next thought,' he told himself. Back with the hot tea, Warren tried to determine every flavor he could taste as he sipped. Some of the same ones his nose found, and others he couldn't name. He immersed himself in the beverage; it was a safe place. Best just to let the hot liquid envelop him with its warmth and soothing fragrance.

Sukja returned to the chair and studied the Human. He didn't think Archangel fully comprehended he was there, his mind in another place. That could be good or bad – it really depended on the individual. Some abuse victims go to a safe place in their minds for a short while to leave the worst of the experience behind temporarily. Others retreat to that place permanently. It was Sukja's job to ensure that it was the former.

He would get the imperial companion up and moving as soon as possible. A shower, food, more fluids, and then he'd see better how his charge was recovering. For now, he'd let Archangel finish the tea.

###

Warren woke confused. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was sipping tea while sitting in bed. Few memories filled the time between waking up to the hot tea before and waking up just then on the window seat. Had it been a dream? Was he still dreaming? Then he checked – he was in loungewear. So he had been up. And from the feel of it, he had also showered. And it felt as though considerable time had passed since, but how much? Was it even the same day?

The chamber lights were at their daytime intensity, so he presumed it was day on the Mi Lartui. 'Too bright.' He reached over to the lighting control above the window seat and overrode the auto-setting to dim them. Then he realized he was alone.

'Good.' He wanted to see no one as he struggled with recollection. What had happened in between? The odd sensation of mental numbness was equally puzzling – it felt almost like his brain was on Novocain.

Warren got up. Perhaps moving around would clear his head. Pacing the length of his prison, Warren tried to put the pieces together. Obviously, he had showered and dressed. Fed? Perhaps – he didn't feel exceptionally hungry. Vague images and sounds swirled together, making no sense. Sukja's soothing voice, another male voice – Ztar's, hushed whispers. Hands leading him…where? Hard as Warren tried, he couldn't come up with any solid memories post-tea.

'This isn't working. Just let it go for now.'

Sitting down defeated on the edge of an overstuffed chair, he toyed with asking Sukja to fill in the blanks. He didn't know…maybe even didn't care about the gaps. Maybe memory loss was a good thing. Maybe it was a blessing not to remember Ztar's depravities.

'Dear God, I can't do this much longer. You guys better get here soon, or…' He pressed the thought out to the X-men, knowing it was a fruitless exercise. He buried his head in his hands.

Then without warning, a tidal wave slammed into him. He was back in the bed, trapped beneath the alien and unable to prevent what was happening. Ztar. The mental bombardment. Unbridled lust and craving for his body drilling into his mind. Pain everywhere. Unwelcome hands and other body parts where he didn't want them. His heart raced as remembered panic grabbed hold. The taste of horror. Pleading. Everything stripped away. Raped body and mind. Alone. No escape. His guts twisted painfully. It all came crashing in. Three nights of humiliation. No control over what happened. Trapped. Ashamed.

'_No!_ I don't want to remember!' he implored, squeezing his head between his hands. 'Stop!'

But the images and feelings kept pummeling. He tried to halt them, push them down, but they overwhelmed all efforts. All the repression skills honed over the years, the flair for denial and detachment he worked to perfect failed. His mind felt fractured and broken – its defenses shattered.

His chest tightened and breathing became difficult. His body quaked. How could anyone expect him to go on like this? It was asking too much! He couldn't cope – he didn't want to cope – not with that. 'I don't have the _strength_, Professor!' he cried out in abject desperation, hoping by some miracle Xavier would hear. 'Can't do this…not for _Earth_…not for _anyone!_' Anguish and black despair engulfed Warren and he slid to the floor on his knees. 'God, please!… _Someone!_'

The crying came violently, racking his entire body; breaths were ragged gasps. Relived sensations and emotions kept coming, burying Warren alive. His own feelings swirled with those Ztar had force-fed him, creating a maelstrom of conflicts and contrasts that tore him apart. '_Get out!_' he screamed silently at the alien feelings. 'Stop…just stop,' he feebly pleaded with his brain.

He turned and clung to the chair like a life preserver, burying his face in its softness. Tears flowed into the cushion; the chair absorbed his wrenching sobs and bore silent witness to his soul's agony. Too much pain, too much shame, too much to endure. So _alone_. Trapped. Betrayed. No escape. Despair crushed down, squeezing out breath and life. _So o o good_ to just disappear. Escape agonizing memories...Ztar. Leave horror and pain behind. To dissolve into nothing. To be nothing…

Warren let himself slide down toward a calm emptiness that beckoned…anything to escape the inescapable.

###

_A/N: Okay, we're through the first three critical nights of Warren's tortured existence. After the next chapter, I'll give you a summary of why I believed things needed to be as I've depicted in this new version._

_On a side note, saw the movie "Thor" today. Liked it; didn't love it. Still, Chris Hemsworth was definitely the eye-candy that kept my eyes glued to the screen (shameful, I know)._

_Haven't seen X:FC as yet, but want to as I'm interested in seeing how the writers depict the relationship between Charles and Erik. Despite being a villain, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Magneto. Can't help but believe that beneath all his pain, anger, and sadness, there's a noble spirit buried. _

_On the other hand, I hate how the moviemakers have changed X-men history – sacrilege! X:FC should have had Scott, Jean, Hank, Bobby and our favorite, Warren. Maybe they'll someday make an X-Force movie with Warren, Logan, Betsy, and the others. Would love to see Warren transform between his natural form and Apocalypse's form. Wouldn't _that_ be cool!_

_See you next for C6._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Absolutely thrilled with how many people jump onto each new chapter posting! What a dedicated group you are. Please consider dropping in a review or sending me a message from time to time. Would love to hear from as many of you as possible – the more feedback and differing perspectives I get, the better I can improve my writing. Besides, isn't it fun to read what other people think of a story? So be brave and share your thoughts. We Warren/Archangel fans need to support each other._

_The explanation I promised is at the end of this chapter for those of you who are curious about the additional chapter from the old version. _

_Without further ado, Chapter 6._

**Chapter 6**

Ztar sensed something was amiss with Archangel from his location half way across the ship. He pressed his mind out to reach the Human's. And then he swore out loud, startling everyone in the meeting.

"Excuse me," Ztar said simply, nearly leaping out of his chair. An Emperor need not explain his actions, even when leaving unexpectedly in the middle of a critical tactical meeting.

Outside the meeting room, Ztar reached out to find Sukja's unique mental signature amongst the 170 minds on the ship. There, on deck four…

/ _Where are you?_ /

Ztar's mental bolt nearly caused Sukja to trip and fall. Instantly, he knew he was in trouble. He projected back, / _Completing errands on-_ /

Ztar broke in angrily. / _Go to Archangel immediately. You should __**not**__ have left him._ / And then Ztar ripped his presence away harshly.

Sukja didn't know if the Human was trying to harm himself, was ill – it didn't matter. All the mattered was getting up there as quickly as possible. Simply dropping his parcels in the corridor, the attendant ran as fast as his legs would carry him to Archangel's suite. He was breathing hard and his hand shaking as he palmed the door control.

The Human was on the floor, in a fetal position against the chair, his head buried in the cushion, with wings so tight to the body they outlined the curled form. Convulsive shaking was the only movement. _Not_ good.

There was no response when Sukja approached or even when he risked touching Archangel gently on the shoulder. That _really_ wasn't good. A quick visual inspection found no blood or obvious injury. Sukja knew there was nothing in the suite that Archangel could have used as poison. Even if he had injured himself, the Human's healing abilities should deal with it. This was likely a mental break – much more difficult to treat.

Sukja had been so confident when he left Archangel sleeping that the man had successfully come through the worst of the first critical hours. Once Archangel had finished his tea, Sukja got him to shower and dress, to eat and take more tea. Archangel had talked and walked, although in a somewhat dream-like state, but that wasn't unexpected considering what Ztar had put him through. All in all, the signs had been reassuring.

He had coaxed Archangel to lie down once again and sleep when the need for more became obvious, and had hoped Archangel would slumber long enough to complete his daily errands for Ztar. Obviously, he had been wrong about Archangel's state of wellbeing. He just hoped his lapse of judgment would be forgiven by the Emperor. That forgiveness would likely hinge on Archangel's restoration to wellness.

Getting down on his knees next to Archangel, Sukja wished _he_ was the telepath to know what was going on in the man's mind. Then again, considering what Archangel had been through the last few days, maybe he'd rather not know.

"Archangel," Sukja began. "You're not alone, I am here," he murmured in his most euphonic voice. "I know I serve the man who has hurt you, but I am not that man. We can get through this together. Please let me help."

_Nothingness approached closer, reaching out to him. He welcomed it._

Sukja carefully crafted his words based on years of experience. "Right now I'm guessing you're trying to hide away. The pain is acute. The memories unbearable. But things will ease. Your life will not always look so dark. You must come back."

Sukja continued injecting strength and confidence into the words, "We can deal with your pain. It will be hard, but together we can make it less raw, less intense. I will not lie to you that we can make it go away, but we can make it tolerable. You can do this!"

_He drifted toward the blackness filled with emptiness. No pain. No emotions or tortured thoughts. Just peaceful oblivion._

Sukja noted that the violent shuddering had lessened. Whether that meant Archangel was listening or had slipped further away he did not know. He remembered the briefing paper on Archangel's friends that military intelligence had prepared and Ztar shared. The X-men were warriors on their planet. Perhaps an appeal to that side of Archangel's personality.

_And the nothingness edged ever nearer._

Putting himself in Archangel's viewpoint, Sukja continued. "The Emperor _is_ cruel and sadistic. He has hurt you and should pay for his crime. This I understand. But I'm not the one to do that. It is not my right. That vengeance belongs to you – no one else." Sukja let that rest with Archangel for a bit. He just hoped the Human had heard it.

_Nothingness beckoned. So alluring. Silent. Empty. Deep. Just a little further and there would be no more pain…_

"Archangel," Sukja said more loudly, but without harshness. "You are a _warrior_ – a fighter. Don't let the man defeat you. Not like this. Not whimpering on the floor of his cruiser. You are _tougher_ than that. _Stronger_ than that. Rise up. Defy him. Fight him. _Survive_ him! Show Ztar what it means to be a warrior – what it means to be an X-man."

_From somewhere, a distant voice/sound kept intruding. A sliver of consciousness was caught up in that voice, holding him back from the embrace of nothingness. If only he could break free and sink into the blissful blackness._

Archangel's body tensed ever so slightly. Sukja could not determine if that was good or bad, but he pushed forward.

###

Ztar was furious. If any permanent harm came to Archangel because his attendant had failed in his duties...

But the Emperor quickly redirected the blame toward the person truly responsible for Archangel's current state – himself. Sukja warned him it was too early for the telepathic technique – that the man needed more time to adjust. What had he _done?_ At long last, he found a bedmate that could satisfy him body and mind and he may have destroyed him.

'How could you have lost control? _Fool!_' he raged.

When the empathic link he had initiated with the Human caused him to reach out to Archangel, he had been horrified. The man's mind had slipped to that deep level where Ztar's telepathy was of limited or no use. There are places the mind can go that were beyond his mental reach. He had experienced that with other bedmates he'd pushed too far. Minds lost to oblivion or chaos. While Ztar could feel their presence, he could do nothing to pull them back to sanity against their will. In one case, he had thrown a mental lifeline to the other mind only to have that mind slip even further away. That bedmate never emerged from her catatonic state.

The mistakes of the past he would not repeat. Archangel was on the brink. Ztar would not attempt to retrieve the injured psyche from the edge of the abyss. He would not risk pushing the man's consciousness deeper into itself by any telepathic incursion. No, he'd would put Archangel's sanity in the hands of the one person who had a chance at snatching him from the precipice.

Ztar thought he'd go mad from the waiting. He knew he did not dare go near Archangel's chambers. Equally, he didn't dare interrupt Sukja's work with a telepathic inquiry. Too much was at stake. As much as it was driving him insane, Ztar would wait for Sukja to contact him. He prayed it would be with good news.

The Emperor was worthless that day. He attended no further meetings. Instead, he paced the halls of the Mi-Lartui, picking up on any sign of lax maintenance, sloppy work, or less than perfect housekeeping. When he found evidence, heads rolled. It was _his_ ship and they'd keep it to perfection!

Ztar was on the warpath and people scattered.

###

Sukja spent the next hours on the floor with Archangel talking of warriors and victory despite overwhelming odds. He pulled from the classic writings he so loved, reciting from memory the most appropriate stories. Tales of heroes and adventurers. Of crushing defeat followed by joyous, ultimate victory.

At some point, the shaking and ragged breathing stopped, replaced by death-like stillness, but Archangel was alive and Sukja kept his voice going…soft, melodic, encouraging.

_The voice/sound was soothing. Something about it appealed. No meaning to the voice/sound, just ever present tones. Gentle. It called to him…reached for him. _

Sukja sensed more than saw a change in Archangel…he felt more "there." The attendant continued the stories until he thought his voice would give out and he'd run out of things to say. But then again, if he repeated himself what did it matter? Sukja kept talking, filling his voice with encouragement.

_The voice/sound was becoming clearer. Meaning of the sounds was almost within grasp. Reach a little further...what was that? _

_Nothingness/blackness hesitated. _

_Then a mental door opened slowly and the blackness edged back. Soul reached out from the doorway and gently embraced mind, they merged, and grew stronger. 'We can't be touched here. We will not be destroyed,' it whispered with iron strength._

_Soul/mind grabbed hold of the voice that was now more than sound. Words formed, had meaning. They listened for some time to the voice that soothed and encouraged. Finally, soul/mind rode the words up away from the edge of blackness, toward the comforting source. 'We choose to survive! Blackness will not take us,' the inner voice proclaimed as consciousness and awareness grew._

_The nothingness that had nearly engulfed him fell away. _

When Archangel took a long, shaky breath and released it, Sukja nearly cried. Yet it was just the start. Then the hands that had held the arms of the chair in a death grip for hours released. Sukja held his breath. What version of the Human would emerge?

Warren's muscles were incredibly stiff; they barely responded to his command to move. Slowly, painfully, he eased himself around. It was a sturdy, heavy chair and held firm as he rested his back against it and stretched his sore legs out before him with great effort. Only then did he notice Sukja on the floor near him.

"Let me make you some tea," Sukja offered. His own muscles equally stiff, Sukja rose with difficulty. Archangel did not acknowledge, but Sukja hadn't expected him to.

Warren's eyes followed the alien as he made the beverage. Anything more than that was too much effort – required too much thought. He would merely watch. Indifference engulfed him at all levels.

When the tea was ready, Sukja rejoined Archangel on the floor. The Human hands trembled to the point where Sukja wasn't sure he could manage the cup, but it was important to let Archangel try. He sat quietly, as the man drank slowly.

"I'm glad you're back with me, Archangel," Sukja finally offered quietly when he felt the moment right.

"The name is Warren," the Human stated without emotion.

'That's new.' The intelligence report Sukja had read only referred to the man as Archangel and Ztar never mentioned another name. 'Surely, Ztar knows this. Topic for later.'

They sat on the floor for a long while as Archangel sipped the tea. Slowly, the trembling ceased and the Human looked steadier. At that point, he believed movement was wise. Rising, Sukja prompted, "Warren, are you well enough to get up?" Then he stepped away, giving the man space to decide. Sukja did not offer to help. He'd leave Archangel/Warren to stand in his own time with his own strength. Feeling that strength and determination would be a key factor in the man's mental recovery.

Warren registered that Sukja hadn't offered a hand up. 'Good!' The last thing he wanted was to be touched – especially by the puppet of the man who very nearly drove him to insanity. He'd help himself up, thank you!

Over the next several hours, Sukja let Archangel make all the decisions…whether or not to eat, whether or not to shower, where to sit and when, what to wear. He simply stood by, making a suggestion here, posing an inquiry there. Unobtrusive, but always nearby.

In the end, Archangel was showered, dressed, hydrated, fed, and asleep on the window seat. It wasn't until then that Sukja breathed a tentative sigh of relief.

###

When Ztar's chamber door chimed, his heart stopped momentarily. Good news or bad? He would not reach out to Sukja's mind and rip the news from him. He would allow Sukja to vocalize it, he decided as he opened the chamber door to his attendant. One look at the man's expression said everything Ztar needed to know. Archangel had survived!

He listened carefully to Sukja's retelling of events and to his suggestions on how to handle the next few days as the Human continued his path back from the brink. After hearing how close he came to losing Archangel to insanity, the more he admired the man in front of him. Few could have done what Sukja did, of that Ztar was certain.

###

The next three days, Sukja rarely left Archangel's side, sleeping in the bed the Human refused to use, while Archangel slept on the window seat. That way, Sukja was at Archangel's side in an instant when the nightmares visited. He didn't hover, though. Sukja remained a gentle presence in the room unless Archangel made a request. Sukja also continued to address and think of his charge as Archangel, not Warren. The man seemed okay with that. Perhaps using his common name was too personal, too familiar.

Archangel slept a lot the first two days, attending mostly to basic needs and little else. The third day was better; he was more inquisitive and active. When Archangel woke the fourth day, Sukja noted a marked change. He showed interest in living again, getting tea within minutes of rising. The ship's stores did not have anything similar to the coffee beverage Archangel had asked for, so Sukja had found a stronger tanquer root tea variety that proved to be to his liking.

Warren ate breakfast while Sukja read quietly in the sitting area. He was not entirely sure what he was eating, but it was good. It resembled an omelet, but made out of something grainer than eggs. As he downed the meal on what he relearned was his seventh day aboard the Mi-Lartui, he contemplated on the brain fog that had finally lifted and the obvious gaps in memory. What he recalled was fragmented and while large chunks of his first week as an alien slave he could piece together, there were also large periods missing. What had he done daytimes? Much of that was gone. The night that caused the near psychological break Sukja said he'd suffered was spotty. The previous two evenings enduring the rapist were fragmented. In a way, Warren was glad. On the other hand, he hated not knowing what he could no longer recall.

Although much of the past several days were lost, Warren did remember the plans he had made several days ago. He needed a distraction from a life that had become a living hell if he was not going to lose what was left of his sanity before rescue came.

He glanced over at Sukja, considering how he'd phrase the request. "I want to learn your language."

Sukja looked up from his PI. He was surprised by the question that seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was another good sign.

"Then that is what you should do." He purposefully did not offer to _teach_ Archangel the language. He could see the Human contemplate that for a moment.

"You will teach me."

'Ah, yes. The man is definitely recovering. Issuing demands,' Sukja noted suppressing a smile, and lowered the PI to his lap. "The computer tutorial is extremely effective and a much better teacher than I would be."

"Tutorials are fine for basics. I want to know the nuisances, slang, how people really speak," Warren pressed.

Archangel had locked eyes with Sukja. He never could get over the incredible blue clarity of those orbs. He held Archangel's gaze and felt the man measuring him. Should he acquiesce to the demand? Perhaps a compromise.

"My duties normally keep me quite busy," Sukja hedged. "But if you learn the basics, I will help you with the nuisances."

Warren released his eyes and returned to the food. "Acceptable," was all he would give the alien.

'I may have my hands full with this one,' Sukja warned himself. At the same time, he was pleased for the Human.

###

Ztar was getting exceedingly impatient. Four days and Sukja still wouldn't let him near Archangel. 'Who's in charge here?' he thought with exasperation. Logic, though, told him that being with Archangel too soon could undo everything Sukja had accomplished the past few days. 'Patience was needed and would be rewarded,' his attendant had explained.

Filled with the usual imperial business, daytimes passed quickly. The latest growing problem was Mygra. The Mygrans occupied just two planets in their solar system when Ztar's forces annexed the region six years into Ztar's reign. No match against the Turzent Empire, the inhabitants bowed quickly. However, after years of disgruntled compliance, it seemed insurgence was in the making. Two imperial stations had been the victim of simultaneous terrorist bombs one day earlier – the most grievous of acts yet in what the extremists declared as their war for a free Mygra. The Empire's military was dealing with the matter, but the resistance was proving to be more widespread than initial intelligence reports indicated.

The old Tekz Kelz Neutrality, which consisted of five inhabited planets, was becoming difficult again. It was surprising and disconcerting. Acquired in Ztar's fourth year as Emperor, the little realm had resisted admirably. War to the Tekz Kelz people was conducted under a strict code of honor – never involve the ordinary citizen or innocent bystander as that was a sure road to warrior's hell in the afterlife. As soon as Ztar realized this, he ordered his military to respect that code or face his wrath. The Emperor never lost sight of long-term goals – to come across as barbarians to the Kelz did nothing to gain their respect or acceptance post-war. That policy paid dividends once the peace treaty was signed – Ztar gave them the dignity of a formal document…a first in decades of Turzent conquest. Helping the little system recover from war and treating them with respect marked a turning point in Ztar's attitude toward conquest. Swords first and swift, then when war is over, extend a hand of dignified assistance. Ztar was never "soft," but if the conquered responded appropriately, they were granted privileges the less compliant were denied.

The Kelz had caused little trouble since their surrender. Unrest and civil disobedience was uncharacteristic of their kind. Thus, the troubles smacked of outside influences.

Instinct told both Gtar-Cro and Ztar to look in a one direction for the cause of the uptick in rebellious activity in both systems. Proof, though, not instinct was required when accusing a neighbor of aiding and abetting insurrection.

As so went Ztar's fourth day without Archangel in his bed. A ruler's frustrations in the daytime and a man's frustrations in the empty darkness. To appease desire, he relived the memories and sensations of the Human to sate hunger as best he could. The ruler of the Turzent Empire lay alone longing for the empty nights to be over.

###

Warren's fourth day following his brush with a psychological break, he followed through on previously made plans to pump Sukja for information. Without being obvious about his intent, he hit the man with all sorts of questions throughout the day. About the Empire's power structure, military, ship capabilities, Turzent culture and history, and more. Keeping most questions on a casual interest level, he'd inject more telling questions here and there, hoping the attendant didn't figure out he was probing for weaknesses. Often Sukja answered the more pointed questions, sometimes he did not stating that was either unknown to him or information of a sensitive nature and could not be discussed.

By mid-afternoon, the alien gave signs he was reaching the limits of his desire to indulge Warren.

"Are you always so curious?" Sukja finally asked bluntly, his head cocked. The slightly suspicious look told Warren it was time to back off.

"I've been told more than once I ask too many questions," he offered to smooth over any apprehensions about his motives.

That brought a smile to Sukja. "Nothing wrong with that under most circumstances. Since you are obviously feeling much improved today, perhaps it's time for a walk."

Warren raised his eyebrows.

"A tour of the ship. Interested?"

He was, but maybe not for a reason Sukja would like. The excursion would be a chance to get the lay of enemy territory. It would also help with the growing need for physical activity and twinges of claustrophobia. Soon he'd have to ask about their destination, if any. 'If I have to stay in this tin can much longer…'

"Lead the way, attendant," he said, inserting a tone of command into his voice just for the audacity of it. The ever so slight upturning of one corner of Sukja's mouth told Warren his effort wasn't lost.

Not until they were strolling down the corridor and past Ztar's chambers did he truly appreciate how closed in he was feeling. Tight spaces had always disagreed with him. His chambers were generously sized, but confinement of any type was against his nature.

Approaching a door, Sukja palmed the control and it slid open. The first thing Warren asked was how the door controls functioned.

"Ship security recognizes every crewmember through their biological signature, bio-sig for short, and only opens doors that matched each individual's security clearance."

"So scanners read DNA or what?"

"That is one identification marker. The scanner also takes a general life sign reading for comparison against the DNA reading of the individual standing in front of the door."

"In case that someone is trying to fool the scanner." Sukja nodded affirmative. "But what if someone with the right clearance were try to let an unauthorized person in?"

"The security system will ask for an override code before allowing access. Those codes are given only to higher ranking officers.

"What if someone manages to breach the door anyway?" That question got him a curious look, but no comment as to the nature of Warren's inquiry. 'Better tone it down, Worthington.'

"The intruder would be neutralized."

"Killed?"

"Stunned."

Warren tucked the information away. The tour could indeed prove to be beneficial in the future.

As they entered the large room, Sukja went on to explain that deck two where Warren's chambers was located was also known as the Imperial deck.

"And this room is the imperial observation lounge. It is used for receptions and other high-level functions. Soon you will be free to come in here whenever you wish as long as it's not in use."

"When is soon?"

Sukja looked at him with neutrality. "When you are ready."

Several less-than-friendly responses came to mind, but Warren chose to let it go. He'd play the cooperative prisoner if that's what it took. He looked around at the imperial lounge – large, opulent, and meant to impress with floor to ceiling windows running the entire length, framing the stars, and decorated with luxurious appointments. Every detail spoke of royalty and wealth, but elegantly so – nothing was overdone. 'Someone has good taste,' he gave the nameless decorator grudging credit.

Leaving the lounge and continuing down the corridor, Sukja explained his bio-sig clearance would also grant him access to the visitor lavatories, Emperor's private galley, and beverage locker. 'Like a wine cellar,' Warren noted as he ducked his head inside the door. 'Maybe once you're given the keys to the city, you can come down here and get sloshed to drown your sorrows,' he offered himself with bitter sarcasm.

Other rooms he wouldn't be allowed to enter – the Emperor's private quarters (adjacent to Warren's), Sukja's quarters (also adjacent to Warren's but on the opposite side), the Imperial conference room, storage areas, and unidentified doors Sukja didn't explain.

They halted in front of the ship's forward lift.

"You will have access to decks two, three, and four. Elevator controls are also bio-sig regulated and voice activated. They will only stop only at levels where you have clearance." Sukja palmed the control, the door slid aside, and they step inside. "Deck three," Sukja commanded into the air. As they descended, Warren learned deck one housed the ship's bridge, tactical operations, and Ztar's ready room and was off limits, as was deck five, which housed engineering and other sensitive areas.

At the mention of engineering, Warren posed a question that the computer had answered in a vague manner when he queried it. "How fast is Mi-Lartui?"

"I believe roughly L3.0 is her official top speed. You understand the imperial FTL scale?"

Warren nodded, that memory having not abandoned him. "I looked it up – it's based on a thousand times the speed of light, so 3.0 is 3000 times light speed. But how fast is she really?"

Stepping off the lift onto deck three, Sukja gave Warren a smirk. "3000 times the speed of light isn't fast enough for you?"

"The military rarely declares the true top speed of their vessels, if it's anything like Earth's armed forces."

"True. And as such, this lowly attendant knows only what is disseminated to the public."

Warren gave up. Sukja wasn't sharing if he did know. As they traversed the main corridor toward the rear of the ship, deck three wasn't of much interest – crew quarters, a spacious crew lounge and other rooms dedicated pastime activities, the infirmary, and the mess hall and galley.

They passed by many of the crew who were obviously off-duty as they were out of uniform. His feathers ruffled automatically as he drew curious looks and quiet comments the speakers obviously believed he would not hear. Warren had extremely good hearing thanks to his mutation. He caught snippets of comments – no, never saw anyone like him; don't know the species; does look like the legends; Emperor's newest companion; and so forth. Pulling his wings tight, Warren tried to block out the whispers. "Companion" hit home – they saw him as a _consort?_ Did they know he was there against his will or did they believe him with Ztar willingly? Did the crew of the Mi-Lartui have any idea their Emperor was a sadistic rapist? Nauseam made his stomach roil.

Spying the rear lift doors, he picked up the pace. All he wanted was away from the prying eyes and speculations. As he fidgeted by the lift door, he caught Sukja's concerned glance in his peripheral vision. "W-where next?" he asked, kicking himself for the stutter. He hated the alien seeing him unnerved. Sukja palmed the control and Warren darted inside almost before the door had completely opened.

"Deck four," Sukja replying and commanding simultaneously, still watching Warren closely without being obvious.

On the next level, they passed ship's stores, cargo and shuttle bays, and other areas of miscellaneous functions that occupied the fourth deck.

"You will have access only to stores down here. Procurement Officer de'Letnoir is in charge – see him whenever you need something for your chambers."

He continued asking routine questions, injecting an occasional more useful inquiry. At the tour's conclusion, Warren felt he had a good handle on the Mi-Lartui's layout. Its interior arrangement was straightforward; basically a long rectangle with a main corridor down the center and side passages off that.

Warren realized he hadn't thought to ask the computer for an exterior shot of Mi-Lartui, so he asked Sukja about that as they moved toward the front lift to head back up. The attendant brought a picture of the ship's exterior on one of the many computer interfaces located in the corridors. Mi-Lartui was graceful in appearance, in a military sort of way. Warren smirked at that contrast. She was shaped like a spear head, yet fuller and more rounded and elongated. The nose came to a blunt center point. Engines pods that resembled pinchers of sorts were attached off either side of the main body at her aft. The bridge deck rose higher than the rest of the forward surface, echoing the contours of the nose section. Any artistic qualities Mi-Lartui had ended with the impenetrable-looking hull that appeared as if it would withstand the firepower of an armada. No one would doubt Mi-Lartui was anything but a warship, yet her curving and arching lines gave her a grace often deemed irrelevant for battleships.

Stepping back onto deck two, Warren was glad to be back on his level where few people roamed without invitation. He wasn't sure if he'd venture much beyond the Imperial deck. The reactions he saw and heard were difficult and had unsettled him, but was glad he toughed it out, believing it important to physically navigate the ship's interior. That knowledge may prove critical in the future, such as if the X-men had to storm the ship to free him.

Re-entering his chambers, Warren immediately noticed that the bed was made and the room cleaned. Two days earlier, Sukja had introduced the crew member from housekeeping that was assigned to Warren's chambers. Dorraj was a master at stealth, Warren concluded, suspecting the man watched him secretly. How else to explain that every time the cleaning had been performed while he was in the bathroom getting cleaned up regardless of when that occurred? Disturbing.

There was another bigger question as yet unasked. Warren hadn't broached the subject of whether they were traveling to wherever Ztar lived or if he lived in space. He wasn't certain he was ready to hear the answer if it was the latter, but regaining his mental faculties was bringing rise to the discomfort of being cooped up. Sooner or later he'd need to know. Just not quite yet.

###

That evening, Sukja and Warren dined together in the attendant's quarters 'for a change of scenery,' Sukja had said. The man's chambers were quite a bit smaller than Warren's, which he found interesting. Likely, the roominess of Warren's suite was more for the Emperor's benefit than for the comfort of imperial whores. That last thought did nothing but rise up unwanted emotions and his blood pressure, so he quickly turned thinking elsewhere.

"Tell me about the Empire," Warren prompted as soon as they sat down. He had learned a lot through the computer, but it was a safe subject, and Sukja's perspective would be different than the dry facts from the comnet.

Sukja silently sighed – he had explained, informed, expounded all day. He was tired. The Human's curiosity was insatiable. "Any particular subject matter?"

"How Ztar came into power." It was an innocuous way of learning more about the man who held him captive.

Tired as he was, Sukja promised he would once they had finished dining.

They enjoyed a four-course meal from Ztar's private chef, complete with an alcoholic beverage called Dison as an after dinner beverage. When Sukja had swallowed the last bite of the Pji Tar, a delicacy from his home planet, Ozjaer, he began.

"As promised, here is the story," he started with a wipe of napkin across his mouth. "Succinctly, though, because I'm tired of hearing myself speak," he added with a quick smile. "The Empire began from the Turzent's homeworld, Turzen. Nearly 250 standard years ago, the race harnessed FTL travel. They were an expansionistic species and quickly conquered many nearby star systems. By the time Ztar came along, what was then called the Ta'oc Empire consisted of roughly 40 inhabited worlds and other many worlds capable of habitation. They had a strong military and their technology was advancing at a fast pace. Ztar worked his way up through the military ranks quickly as he was recognized as a gifted tactician."

Sukja paused for a sip of Dison, and Warren did likewise. The liqueur was warm, a bit sweet, and definitely fiery, and Warren found himself very much enjoying it.

"While Ztar was climbing the ranks, Ta'oc scientists were once again working on augmenting their species' genetics. Apparently, previous attempts met with disappointing results. Turzent DNA proved to be very sturdy stuff and did not give easily to manipulation. Military funding and personnel were funneled into the research in hopes that whatever benefits were derived, the military would get first dibs. Mostly, I'm told, they were hoping for super soldiers."

It sounded all too familiar to Warren. The same had been attempted on Earth and probably was still being pursued.

Sukja paused for a sip of liqueur, which Warren decided tasted much like the Italian liqueur Tuaca. "The military went looking for 'volunteers' amongst their ranks when test subjects were needed. It's unclear as to the whys and hows, but Ztar's name rose to the top. By that time, Ztar had become a mid level officer and garnered great respect and admiration from those he commanded. He also had many supporters in the higher ranks."

Warren listened keenly. He was learning potentially valuable information.

"But apparently, he also had some powerful enemies, because at the time, reassignment to the augmentation program was likely a death sentence." Sukja let that hang in the air for a few moments. After another taste of Dison, he continued. "Ztar's protests were fruitless and the reassignment was final. To make a long story short, the augmentation worked! But Ztar was the only soldier that survived the process. The augmentation made him bigger and much stronger. Actually, it succeeded in ways the scientists hadn't planned. Seems our Emperor possessed naturally occurring mutations that hadn't yet been triggered. Somehow the augmentation activated those mutations. The details are sketchy, but not many people walked out of that facility alive. Not only had Ztar's natural telepathy been awakened, but he commanded an energy field that's lethal for some distance."

That really caught Warren's attention.

"The rest is your basic revenge story, plotted by a brilliant tactician still with friends in high places, who hoped to use Ztar's new abilities for their own gain. Those people are now long dead having served Ztar's purpose. Within a couple years, Ztar commanded all Ta'oc's military and technological might. Once those were his to control, the government fell and Ztar named himself Emperor. With the Ta'oc Empire firmly under his power, he set his sights farther."

Sukja leaned back in his chair and looked in Warren's direction with an expression he couldn't interpret.

"That was many years ago. He has been expanding our reach ever since. The Turzent Empire now encompasses 368 inhabited or habitable planets last time I checked," Sukja finished the story and downed the last of his drink.

"Quite the ride!" Hearing the tale, though, did nothing to changed Warren's opinion of the Turzent ruler.

The two men sat quietly for a few moments, until Sukja broke the silence. "It's late and ushering you around the ship and answering a non-stop stream of questions exhausted me," he gently chided.

Sukja was pleasantly surprised when an ever so slight smile crossed Archangel's features. Even a small smile was a thing of beauty on the man. 'Imagine if we could see a complete one,' he thought wistfully. 'Perhaps…in time.'

Warren walked with Sukja to his own chamber entrance. The last couple days had gone pretty well all things considered, but as the door glided silently closed after him, his mood quickly soured. The door would lock behind him once again, sealing his cell. Sukja said that may change soon, but what did it matter? Instead of being isolated in a cell, he'd have access to the prison yard so to speak. Big fucking deal.

Daytimes with Sukja had been tolerable. He had occupied his mind with endless things to learn and, according to Sukja, endless questions to ask. But the nights were different. In the darkness, lying on the window seat, the terrors and shame visited. Unbidden memories and emotions broke through his defenses in the wee hours. He did his best to push them down deep. And when he did finally fall fitfully asleep, nightmares gripped him.

Each evening, he prayed that Ztar did not come. Five nights running, his prayers were answered. He wasn't sure how much longer God would protect him, but instinct whispered the reprieve was nearing its end.

###

_A/N: Okay, as promised, here is my reasoning for Chapter 4 (the new Night Two). It wasn't to write another rape scene for the perverted thrill of it. Warren is a mentally tough guy. He's been through hell and back more than once. It would take a lot to break him. The first _"Sacrifice"_ had him crumbling after the second night. That seemed too quick in hindsight. I felt it more believable that a triple blow to Warren's psyche would be what it took to shatter him to the point he reaches in this chapter. _

_So I put Warren through three nights of horror, the third being the worst with the telepathic bombardment. That final "mental" rape following closely on the heels of two physically brutal assaults is what pushes Warren to the brink of psychological collapse. To me, it is more in keeping with the strength and fortitude of his character. _

_That's my logic behind the added night, be it right or wrong. Please let me know your opinion, especially those of you who read the first version. _

_And in keeping with Warren's tough spirit, he comes through his brush with mental oblivion as told in this chapter. Our hero has always been a survivor. Everything Marvel has put him through and he's still standing and sane. Gotta admire that. It is one of reasons I've been enthralled with his character for years. Warren is one tough cookie!_

_See you all for C7 in a few days, I hope. _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Time for C7 already! Here we go…_

**Chapter 7**

Day nine of his forced indentureship, Warren threw himself into learning the Turzent language. It diverted thinking from more painful ruminations. As Sukja had said, the tutorial was very good. He found the language was coming to him more easily than he would have thought.

Sukja did spend breakfast with Warren, but explained it was time he got back to his regular duties. After Sukja left, Warren had a second breakfast. He feared he was still losing weight, which was not a good situation. His souped-up metabolism demanded quantities of food that would cause most to be obese. Unfortunately, the nightmare he was living left him without his usual appetite and he simply wasn't eating enough. Since his body carried no fat to speak of, the only thing it could burn was muscle. Warren had to eat more or he would soon cause himself harm.

As such, he munched away while learning the Turzent words for a myriad of common objects. Some of the sounds he struggled a bit to mimic, but none were any more difficult than rolled Rs or trilled Zs.

When lessons got tiring, Warren explored other areas of the computer system his clearance allowed, learning more and more about the Turzent Empire. Some things were surprising (the citizens had more freedoms than he would have thought on those worlds that joined the Empire willingly), others disturbing (the use of forced labor). And so the threat of turning Earth into a labor planet if he didn't cooperate was not without precedent, at least that's what the computer said. At that juncture, Warren took nothing at face value.

Focusing on the language lessons also distracted him from the growing feeling of claustrophobia. It was becoming sharp. Warren found himself looking out the windows at the stars more often. Daydreams of flight came unbidden at odd times. He pushed down the need, just like the memories of being under Ztar.

###

That night they dined in Archangel's chambers. Sukja was tense. He attempted to hide it, but felt the Human sensed the unease. Sukja chatted and tried to act as he had each meal the past couple days, postponing the inevitable. Finally, with dinner over and dishes taken to the kitchen, Sukja bid Warren good night and headed for the door. As his hand neared the door controls, he stopped. The time had come.

Turning from the exit, Sukja looked to Archangel, into the handsome visage with those remarkable eyes. The first moments, Archangel simply looked inquisitively back, but then the eyes widened in understanding.

Archangel's reprieve had run out.

Sukja could do nothing more…he'd warned the Human. The rest was up to Archangel and Ztar. Once the door was shut, Sukja locked the control panel and winced at the muffled sound emanating from inside the room.

###

"No, no, _NO!_" Warren yelled at the door of his prison as it closed behind Sukja. The room swam in front of him and he grabbed the table for support. "I can't do that again! Can't! Won't." His voice had become a whisper. Soon Ztar would come, would run his hands torturously over his body, kiss him with lip-splitting force, control him to kiss back, touch his most private areas, invade his mind, impale himself agonizingly inside Warren. 'God, I want to fight. I want to kill him!' Mental and emotional strength regained over the past five days threatened to crumble.

He managed to make his way shakily to the window seat, slid back into the corner, pulled knees up to chest to rest his forehead on them, and enveloped his body with his wings. Warren knew he couldn't hide that way from Ztar, but it felt comforting, isolating; his wings a shield against a universe that often defined him by his feathered appendages. They were his curse and his wondrous gift. From angel to demon and back again, the wings were always there in one form or another. They had given him joyous freedom and had enslaved him. Brought him sensual pleasures and intense pain. He believed they were one of the reasons he was at the mercy of a sadistic rapist far from home.

Funny, if you asked people if they'd like to have wings to fly free, most would say yes in a heartbeat. Just try it for a while, though. The world can be a cruel place for one that looks like an iconic angel with all the associated preconceptions and expectations. It's not always easy having wings.

People would tell him, had always told Warren, how beautiful he was. How stunning. There was a time when he may have believed that – when he was younger, a student at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Life was so much simpler then. He was so much simpler. Innocent. More than once, he was referred to as "joyous life." And he was. Warren was happy – he belonged to something important. A powerful man thought he was worthy of that. And his greatest joy was flying. He was born to fly – it was innate to his nature. To soar above the world, above the clouds, wind through his hair and over his wings. Total, complete, euphoric freedom.

Then life got complicated. It tried to destroy him many times. Tried to break his spirit through maim, transformation, death, heartbreak, and betrayal. Somehow, through it all, he survived, but he wasn't the same. He no longer believed he was beautiful – neither inside nor out.

Warren wasn't sure how long he sat in the corner – minutes? An hour? Then he heard what he dreaded…Ztar's voice.

"Archangel?" the voice was deep, mixing inquiry with command.

'_No!_' Warren didn't move, couldn't move. Stay safe inside the cocoon of feathers. He felt Ztar sit on the edge of the seat. His heart was threatening to escape from his chest. He broke into a sweat.

Ztar observed the Human. 'Does this creature know how impossibly beautiful he is?' With outstretched wings enfolding him, Archangel sat in the corner. Only small parts of the rest of the body were visible – the top of shoulders, golden hair on the back of his head, bare feet peeking out from beneath the white feathers – not much else. And the exotic and erotic being belonged to him. Ztar took hold of the nearest wing and eased it away from Archangel's body. Almost surprisingly, there was little resistance.

Warren looked up – Ztar's face was right there, startling him with its closeness. Suddenly, against his will, words tumbled out. "You're killing me! I can't do this – not even for a whole planet. Don't force me to anymore. Let me go, I _beg_ you!" Instantly, he regretted the outburst – it sounded weak and cowardly.

The cryful plea took the Emperor aback. For a brief moment, he considered letting the perfect being go. Then his brief brush with compassion passed.

"While that is possible, Archangel, I won't comply. I have waited too long for you. What I experience with you I will not give up." Ztar paused and watched pain fill Archangel's eyes. "You will learn to cope. I will help you with that, if you wish. There are telepathic techniques I can employ."

Warren dropped his head and suppressed the urge to cry and scream at the same time.

"All I ask of you, Archangel, is a brief time at night. I dictate no other areas of your life. Your days are your own. Is that too high a price for your planet's freedom?" Ztar demanded.

Warren was incredulous at Ztar's perception of the situation. 'Dictate no other areas? _What_ other areas? I'm a prisoner in a tin can in the middle of space. A damn piece of property! The price _is_ too high!' But he said nothing; it wasn't worth the effort. The man was a delusional rapist.

When no response was forthcoming, Ztar gently took Archangel's chin in his hand and turned the face toward him. "Is it?"

Warren gave the Emperor the answer he wanted. "No," he whispered back. Any other answer would have changed nothing. He was trapped in a nightmare. Would anyone come for him? Warren could see no way out other than a miracle rescue. Yet escape would mean doom for Earth. The future of a whole planet, _his_ planet, rested on cooperation with a sadist. Warren wasn't certain he would survive the price of Earth's liberty.

Ztar began stroking and caressing Warren, the hands running down his wings and back. He felt like a pet…a pet that was the object of depraved sexual desire, not worthy of care or consideration. He swallowed hard fighting back tears of hate and helplessness.

"Not here," he told the Emperor. "This is _my_ space." He hoped Ztar respected at least that much.

'Even the sound of his voice is sensual!' Ztar noted to himself. Or was it he was so enthralled that everything he saw in the Human was biased?

"Very well," Ztar replied getting up, but leaving one knee on the seat for leverage. He quickly scooped Archangel up and hauled him over to the bed before the man could react.

Astride his captive once again, he grasped the head with both hands and looked down. "You can go away in your mind to that mountain valley, if you wish. I will not stop you, unless you go so far that you become unresponsive to my needs. Let me do to you as I wish. At night, your body is mine, but I'll leave most everything else to you. Those are the rules."

A sex toy. An object. A tool for sexual satiety. Nothing more. It cut to his soul. A physical reaction to Ztar's words washed through Warren…a sort of sinking, nauseous wave that he had no word for. Warren did what he could to prepare mentally for the unavoidable.

Straddling Archangel's thighs, the Emperor leaned down and took the sensual mouth into his. Surprisingly, there was no resistance to his tongue pushing inside. 'Oh, how I missed this!' While he kissed heatedly, his hands found the heavenly wings and he dug fingertips deep into the feathers to the membrane beneath. His reward was a soft moan he knew the Human tried to bite back. Ztar flashed into flames – such a little thing and he was on fire!

Warren forced himself to look at the man atop him. Fiery lust flared in the eyes and it filled him with sickening dread. Likely, pain would soon follow. He had experienced torture before, but nothing in Warren's life prepared him for what the alien ruler was putting him through. Torture and other intentionally inflicted pain was horrific and injured not only the body, but could wound the mind. What Warren was enduring went beyond that – it was slicing to the very core of his being.

Ztar forced himself to pull back. It was too soon to play hard with Archangel. Sukja warned him and he knew it to be true. Too much, too quickly and five days of work could be undone. 'Slow down, Ztar!' told scolded himself.

"Let's try something else," the Emperor said with heavy breath.

Dread multiplied. 'What's the barbarian going to do to now?'

Ztar picked up on the distress immediately. "No, Archangel. Don't be afraid," taking the Human's face into his hands again. "Tonight will be gentle. You've endured much – I understand that. I will control myself."

Gentle? Warren didn't believe it for a moment. He wanted to yell and swear and fight and run, but it would all be pointless. No, he had to endure and get through the next hour.

In a nimbleness belying his size, Ztar switched places with Archangel. Ztar was lying back on the plumped pillows and Archangel was sitting on the Emperor's thighs, knees to either side of Ztar's legs. With a hand around each wrist, Ztar used his thumbs to force open Archangel's tightly held fists. "Breathe, Archangel," he instructed when he wasn't certain that was happening.

Warren had been holding his breath, he was surprised to learn. Then with a detachment he hadn't initiated on his own, he watched as the Emperor massaged his palms. 'Ztar's doing?' He was pretty certain.

"Delicate hands for a man – your bones are fine," Ztar observed, adding, "but strong."

Ztar guided the hands down to his chest, then reached behind Archangel's head and drew him in for another long, intoxicating kiss. When he finally released Archangel's mouth, he held the face just above his own to search the intense blue orbs for the resolute spirit Ztar hoped he hadn't crushed. Sukja believed it survived; provided evidence to that fact, but he needed to know for himself.

Warren steeled and returned the stare, probing the dark brown, gold-flecked eyes hoping to see some clue for the man's insane behavior. All he saw was covetous hunger, making him both nauseous from revulsion and burning with hate.

Many of Ztar's past lovers had difficulty holding his gaze. Not Archangel. Not even after all he'd been through the past several days. The conqueror was impressed. Was Sukja correct? Had the fighting spirit he had stealthy touched the first time he saw Archangel not been lost? He reached out to Archangel's mind for confirmation. While the searing hatred he found wasn't what he preferred, in a way it served a purpose. 'Nurture, do not destroy,' he warned himself. 'I want you to be fiery, my companion,' he thought to the blue eyes, but did not project. 'Fiery, but submissive in the end,' Ztar quickly qualified.

He released the man's head to run his fingers through the golden mane. "Spread your wings wide. I want them to surround us."

Warren hesitated. He wasn't sure he liked the "gentler" Ztar any better. It unnerved more than terrified. At least so far, the absence of pain was a relief, but then again, the night was still young. Feeling a slight mental nudge to obey, he did as commanded rather than Ztar taking control to force compliance. He desperately wanted to maintain control over his body and mind as much as possible; it was all he had left.

As whiteness expanded around them with the sensual sound of feather moving across feather, Ztar's eyes wandered over his magnificent possession. Archangel was created for pleasures of the flesh, of that Ztar was certain. He drank the vision in and it left Ztar breathless and even more aroused. The wings hovered like a canopy around them, so white they were radiant, nearly glowing in the soft chamber lighting. The golden waves of hair. The crystalline blue of the eyes. Colors pure and clear. A being so perfect that it didn't seem mortal. Esserru. Everything about the man was ethereal and sensual…and his to possess. Every time he considered it, Ztar believed he was destined to find the Human.

Lust and desire radiated from Ztar, and it sickened Warren as the alien's gaze roamed over him with the intensity of a physical touch. He had been the object of desire in the past, but the alien's was unprecedented in its extremeness. Warren swallowed down the sense of being a non-person.

'God, I'm not going to survive until Scott and the others get here.' He nearly gave in to the urge to jump from the bed, but what good would that do? 'Just get through it.'

Ztar slid his hands to the back of Archangel's neck and released the fabric at its custom seams. With that done, the top removed easily.

Warren drew back slightly in surprise. So even his clothes were designed for the Emperor's convenience! But he must have known that – another detail lost to him from previous encounters. 'God, how much memory did I lose?' Hands at his mid back eased him down close. He grimaced. 'Not enough…still remember way more than I want to.'

"Kiss me."

Warren would have pulled back again, but the hands had moved to the base of either wing, holding him in position. Kiss another man? Kiss this man? Being kissed by him was difficult enough, but expecting Warren to initiate? He couldn't do it.

"I won't…"

"You will."

No, that was going too far. He'd endure the sex and the pain, but he wouldn't do that. Warren pushed against Ztar's chest, but he was held firm by the much stronger man. He tried to rise up with his knees – same result. Warren was strong by typical Human standards, but Ztar was a powerhouse.

"Kiss me," the command came again.

Warren was running out of options. He thought briefly of a facial attack, but the voice projected into his head said Ztar was prepared that.

"Kiss me," Ztar ordered for the third time, dark eyes holding Warren's unwaveringly.

Warren gritted his teeth against being trapped.

Ztar gently massaged the base of Archangel's wings – it sent shivers through his body and the wings spread higher. The response he'd hoped for.

Warren hated that his body betrayed him. Ztar liked the shivers, and the auto-response obviously fed into the man's lust. Regardless, he still had a decision to make. Thoughts of Earth and its people ran through his mind. His world and the future of all Humans rested squarely on his shoulders, but his male subjugator wanted Warren to willingly kiss him and he just couldn't.

"No." Defiance was a huge risk. Certainly, Ztar wouldn't punish Earth for a small infraction – would he? Warren held his breath and waited.

Ztar contemplated for a moment. Reading the Human, he knew in part Archangel's heterosexual nature was behind the refusal, so it wasn't a simple act of insubordination. It truly was difficult for the man. Trepidation filled the empathic airwaves. Should he force compliance? No. He would allow a one-time disobedience for the sake of the spirit rising up once again. One time only.

"That is your single defiant act," Ztar stated firmly. "The rest of the night is as I command."

And he commenced an evening of sexual bliss. When he entered his captive, Ztar was more gradual to limit Archangel's discomfort, while still satisfying his own needs fully.

Afterward, looking down at the man that lie next to him in induced sleep, Ztar admired his bedmate's fortitude. No sounds had escaped Archangel, even though Ztar knew through empathic senses that he had inflicted pain. While not as acute as their first encounters, the absence of pain was impossible – it was a difficult fact the Emperor lived with. Not possible, that is, if Ztar was going to indulge and satisfy himself.

And he had allowed Archangel to use detachment. It had served other bedmates well in the past and as long as it did not go so far as to impede Ztar's enjoyment, he permitted its use. Considering everything, Ztar was pleased with how he handled the night and felt confident that no backward steps were taken with the recovery from the near disaster several nights prior. Confident Archangel would continue to adjust to his new life and be the lasting companion he'd been seeking for so long, Ztar smiled.

###

Sukja spread out a selection of clothing for his Emperor just as Ztar emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Despite being same-gender oriented, Sukja had to admit that the Turzent was a pleasing sight wrapped only in a towel. His towering frame was well-muscled and toned, with not an ounce of excess weight. The damp straight, black hair was tousled about his head, the longest locks falling down the broad shoulders. Bright, daytime lighting caught and played up the deep crimson highlights, which contrasted in a pleasing way with the greenish brown skin tone that was a distinguishing feature of the Turzent race. The man's smooth skin did not yet give evidence of aging, but that was not unexpected. Ztar was in his prime at 44 standard years as Turzents generally lived well into their hundreds. Old for Turzents was over 150.

The face while somewhat hardened by trials and responsibilities, still held youthful vitality. Large, dark brown eyes that almost twinkled with gold flecks were set into strong features with high cheekbones, a well-defined jaw line, and chiseled nose. Ztar was handsome – no arguments from most on that point.

Sadly, Ztar's newest bedmate may never appreciate that in the man.

"Good morning, Sukja," the man who was emperor greeted with a slight grin.

"I take it that it is indeed a good morning?" Sukja inquired.

"You haven't checked in on Archangel yet?" Ztar approached the bed to look over the clothing choices, knowing the answer before Sukja spoke having reached out to Archangel's mind.

"He hasn't yet risen. It _is_ quite early," Sukja pointed out.

Ztar had an especially long day ahead and had risen extremely early. In fact, you'd be hard press to call it morning yet. A military cruiser lay along side the Mi-Lartui carrying one of his Court members, Military Intelligence General Gtar-Cro. Apparently, an urgent matter had come up and the general requested an early morning meeting.

"I was gentle last night, Sukja. Hopefully, it will be a calm morning for Archangel."

Sukja let out a silent exhale of relief. He had worried that Ztar's lust may have gotten the better of him. Although, since Sukja hadn't gotten any late night mental summons to Archangel's chamber, he had hoped that hadn't been the case.

"I've transferred the morning briefs to your PI. Commander Polzjen requested hers be the first reviewed," Sukja related. "She did not elaborate," he added anticipating the Emperor's next question.

"What is our ETA to Trapia System?" Ztar wanted an update.

"7.3 tomorrow."

"Early morning – good," Ztar remarked more to himself than his attendant. Reaching for his clothes, the monarch hesitated and looked at Sukja. "We need to do what we can to make sure Archangel is comfortable."

That surprised Sukja. Ztar never voiced concern over his bedmates' comfort in the past; simply assuming Sukja would handle those mundane tasks.

"I will see to it, my Emperor."

Ztar gave a quick nod. Dismissing Sukja, he reviewed the briefings while eating the morning meal his attendant had also delivered before beginning the day as ruler of the Turzent Empire.

###

Sukja's next stop was ship's stores on deck four to collect some items for Archangel's kitchen. The Human went through more food than Sukja would have imagined for his size. He hurriedly pulled out various items that might appeal, though the man didn't seem to be a fussy eater. Sukja was anxious to get back to check on how Archangel had come through the night. Ztar's "gentle" was relative and a matter of perspective.

Back on the Imperial level, Sukja stopped by his own suite. Not wanting to risk waking him, Sukja checked Archangel's chambers via monitor to see if he had risen yet. Sure enough, the bed was empty and the bathroom door closed. He saw Dorraj was busy straightening up, apparently having received the signal that the occupant was showering. He'd wait for Archangel to emerge while he finished some tasks of his own.

###

Warren was flying and it was wonderful. Over woodlands and valleys, he soared on powerful strokes. His soul sang. Free and happy. The sensual rush of air over body and through feathers tingled nerves delightfully. Awareness expanded. He sensed miniscule magnetic currents and subtle changes in air pressure and temperature. Reaching further, the vastness of the blue firmament surrounded and soothed, holding him safely in its embrace. Stretching consciousness even more, he believed they touched in a whisper of recognition. Earth. Gaia. Life.

A sudden updraft caught him and wings stretched wide to ascend with the flow. Then an outermost wing tip moved down a faction. Instantly, hypersensitive nerves transmitted that subtle change and his brain announced the presence of sinking air to his left, he slipped sideways and rode the downdraft to pick up speed, laughing in delight at the thrill of nature's rollercoaster.

Then distant horizon called – 'Come to me' and he did. Farther and farther he flew, never tiring. Joyful loops and dives filled him with euphoria. Sky was his refuge and his lover. He knew her intimately. He caressed her expanse with his feathers. She was his realm.

But as dreams do, the sweet escape faded. When he woke to his chambers on the f, tears welled up. 'God, I need to get _out_ of here! I'm suffocating!'

That wasn't an option. Instead, he drowned rising anxiety with a hot shower. Tears flowed and mingled with the water. All of it still seemed like a horrible dream from which he'd wake any moment. 'This can't be real.' Yet it was – it was just so hard to wrap his brain around the suddenness with which life had changed.

At least Ztar had been less aggressive the previous night, but that only meant less pain, not its absence. Warren had managed to hold in any cries when the Emperor entered him, but it had cost him. They were cries not so much of physical pain, but from the emotional anguish the rapes were exacting on his soul.

How could he possibly survive his new reality with any semblance of sanity? Only a few nights with the savage and Warren doubted his ability to cope. 'But you have no choice.' He braced himself against the shower wall as emotions tried to rise up. Warren didn't allow himself to fall into hysterics, although he wanted to. The cleansing water flowed for some time.

###

Checking the viewscreen once again, Sukja was beginning to worry. The bathroom door remained closed and it had been a long time. But he wasn't sure precisely the time Archangel had entered the bath – sometime between attending to Ztar and returning from deck four. Perhaps he should go next door…

###

Warren felt in control enough to leave the bathroom. He hoped Sukja wasn't waiting – he wasn't quite ready to see anyone. With relief, he found the room empty, but not undisturbed. Once again, the bed was made and the kitchen had been tidied while he showered. Warren hated that even the housekeeper Dorraj monitored him, or perhaps it was the ship's computer. Either way, he hated it. But stealth cleaning while Warren was in the bathroom meant that wasn't being unattended to, yet it was remarkably clean. Warren could only guess that the wet surfaces where somehow self-cleaning. Plus, memory gaps made nothing a certainty over the past several days.

He started a pot of tea and looked through the cabinets for something to eat. The food stock was running low. Something had to be done about that.

The sound of a chime caused Warren to jump. What was that? It seemed to come from the direction of the front entrance. Over the comm, he heard Sukja's voice. "Archangel, may I enter?"

'This is a change,' Warren thought. 'I must have graduated from kindergarten. What would Sukja do if I said no?' Warren wasn't in the mood to play games, but he would phrase is his reply as a command. "Enter."

The point was not lost on Sukja. Stifling a smile, he activated the door and walked in. Setting the food stuffs on the counter, he turned to Archangel. "I'll let you put these away so you can start organizing things to your liking."

'Yea, right. You're announcing no more a servant.' Warren translated mutely.

Sukja broke the silence the Human was unwilling to. "I have a busy day, but I'd enjoy company for a quick breakfast," he offered. He wanted to gage if the man would be okay on his own a full day, or at least as best as could be judged.

"Suit yourself." Warren was feeling less than hospitable, but he'd tolerate the attendant rather than being alone with his thoughts.

In silence, the men prepared a light breakfast of tea and something that looked like a cross between a sweet biscuit and bagel. Warren knew he'd be eating again as soon as Sukja left if that was all breakfast consisted of.

"This is called a zante," Sukja said holding up the biscuit. "In case you want to get more from stores. In fact, you are free to visit stores to select your own food from now on. Your chamber door is no longer locked."

'Yippee!' Warren retorted in silent sarcasm. His cage had grown larger. Speaking of cages… Warren looked at Sukja over his mug of tea, ready to ask the big question. "Does Ztar live permanently on this ship or only while traveling?" With a sip of hot beverage, he waited to learn his fate.

Sukja had wondered how long it would be before that question was posed. He and Ztar discussed the issue of a creature born to fly being aboard a ship in space. Ztar had mentally picked up Archangel's escalating distress over confinement. He jumped directly to the point of the inquiry. "We will make accommodations for you. The Emperor does not wish to cause you unnecessary discomfort."

Warren nearly swallowed the tea wrong. 'The man who rapes and brutalizes me doesn't want to cause me _unnecessary discomfort?_ Bullshit!' was what Warren really wanted to say, but he didn't. It would gain him nothing. "That's pretty hard to do in the middle of space!" he snapped instead.

Sukja remained steady. "Tomorrow we go into orbit around a planet called Trapia. It is very much like your home planet. You will be shuttled to the surface." Sukja left the rest to imagination.

Warren raised his eyebrows. "How often will we stop or is this a one-time accommodation?" He didn't believe the ship would deviate from course routinely just so the Emperor's plaything could go for a joyride.

"That is something between you and Ztar. This is his ship and his wishes will be obeyed."

Warren didn't press further. He'd wait and see how tomorrow went. For today, he'd work on his Turzent language lessons and perhaps visit ship's stores for a change of scene.

###

Ztar finished Commander Polzjen's briefing with concern. Polzjen was Ztar's onboard link to military intelligence. When she spoke, he listened. Her report was a summation of all recent intelligence information regarding The Systems Commonwealth. What he read, the Emperor did not like. But it was the single sentence at the end of the summary was most worrisome. "The apparent shift in annexation policy raises deep concern in light of other recent activities, and could be interpreted as indicative of an increasingly aggressive posture."

A tacit understanding had kept the Commonwealth and the Empire expanding generally away from each other. A few days ago, that implicit agreement apparently had not been honored according to Polzjen's report, though no details were given as to where any recent annexation took place, instead deferring to General Gtar-Cro; explaining the visit by Ztar's head of Military Intelligence.

The other briefs Ztar scanned quickly, knowing he'd get required details in his daily staff meeting. However, in the MI report, the word 'Earth' caught his attention. The agency had positioned a sector buoy to monitor the nearby wormhole, the one used by the Shi'ar to reach Earth. 'Wise,' Ztar noted. While the Shi'ar made it clear the portal belonged to them and they would use it as they saw fit, the Empire should know when they did and if anyone else was sneaking in and out of their territory via that gateway.

###

"Good morning, General," Ztar opened. He automatically scanned Gtar-Cro's mind for anything suspicious. When you're a self-proclaimed emperor, you trust no one. Not that the General's loyal was in question, but there were other telepaths in the empire to which Gtar-Cro may have fallen victim without conscious knowledge. Finding nothing suspicious, Ztar ended the contact. Staff and crew knew they were dealing with a telepathic leader and routine security scans were expected.

"Greetings, my Emperor. I know your schedule is full. Shall we get right to it?" Gtar-Cro said gesturing the Emperor to lead the way to the conference table.

Ztar liked Gtar-Cro's no-nonsense, let's not waste time manner. He always got right to the point.

Once both men were seated with briefs displayed on PIs, Gtar-Cro began. "We believe the Commonwealth has had a change of expansion policy, issued from the top levels of their government. Their diplomats tell us the move was driven by need of natural resources within the annexed sectors."

"You don't believe that." Ztar didn't guess about that, he knew. The empathic signals told him before he even asked.

"No. The territory is uninhabited and does offer natural resources, but nothing worth raising political tensions over."

"In light of their puzzling behavior this past year, they must know how we would react. Where are these sectors?"

"Unfortunately, uneasily close to our space." Gtar-Cro paused to take a sip of water. The man always had water with him, Ztar had learned years ago. "Before I give you the location, know that we have _no_ intelligence that even hints the Commonwealth has any intentions to infringe our territory. However, the annexation is located in an area strategically desirable should one contemplate incursion into Turzent space. The acquisition could be used as a stepping stone. And, it does include neutral space."

That last bit of information did surprise Ztar. It would represent the first time in ten years either side made such a bold move. "Show me," Ztar commanded.

Gtar-Cro activated the control panel embedded in the conference table to bring up a hologram of the sector of concern.

"Near Zramynian?" Ztar knew immediately why military intelligence was concerned. "They press _uncomfortably_ close."

The Zramynian System was rich in the elements that help make FTL travel possible. A blend of compounds coated the inside of all starship engines to deflect the massive energies required for FTL, thus preventing the inner workings of the engines from disintegrating. Other systems also contained sources of the key ingredients, but the Zramynian System held vast reserves. It was a strategic military system and not one to be allowed to fall into enemy hands.

"This is _not_ an uncalculated move."

"I agree. The question is why."

"The answer to that question has eluded us for nearly a year. At the moment, though, we need to determine our official reaction to their latest provocation. Recommendations."

The General was prepared for the request. "We already have a strong military presence in the sector and a generous military buffer zone, as you know. I recommend heightened surveillance _and_ acquisition of the sector lying beyond Zramynian to strengthen our defensive position. If we do as I suggest, the two acquisitions will significantly narrow the distance between our realms in the region, but neutral space will still span five light-days."

Gtar-Cro didn't waste the Emperor's time explaining all the whys and wherefores of the recommendation. Ztar was a keen strategist. Gtar-Cro waited for the Emperor to weigh the advantages and disadvantages. There were risks either way.

"That will put us into The Barrens as well."

"Yes, my Emperor."

Ztar considered the ramifications. The Barrens was the common name for the neutral zone between the Commonwealth and the Empire. Eight day's crossing time generally speaking, the mutually agreed upon buffer contained no officially inhabited systems and neither realm exerted influence or control over the no-man's land. Legal traffic was extremely limited, restricted to diplomatic envoys and other official business, and only by dual authorization and via very specific travel corridors. As to be expected, the region was a nest for smugglers, the unsavory, and those seeking to live outside the domain of either regime. The Barrens had become a realm onto itself where laws did not exist and survival often depended on ruthlessness – not a place to travel without heavy escort.

After a couple minutes, Ztar issued his orders. "Ensure their spies know that this is simply a small-scale acquisition that has been considered for some time. Routine business for the Empire. And since we know their expansion was also routine, neither side will give the annexations a second thought."

"Done, my Emperor." Gtar-Cro waited for Ztar to rise before standing himself as protocol dictated.

As Ztar was leaving, he paused and turned back to Gtar-Cro. "Congratulations on your spouse's pregnancy," he extended and then exited.

Gtar-Cro understood the two-edge message. First, it was only because of their longstanding relationship that Ztar even mentioned a personal matter to Gtar-Cro, so it was a sign of his respect. Second, only Gtar-Cro and his spouse knew they were going to have a child. So it was also a sign that Ztar's trust only went so far. Gtar-Cro took no offense – what is, is.

The daily staff briefing contained nothing of great urgency as Commander Polzjen had deferred to General Gtar-Cro's meeting. After a lengthy comlink conference on scheduled expansion efforts and a myriad of routine tasks, Ztar was ready for the day to be over. He looked forward to his evening's distraction.

###

Warren's day slipped by uneventfully. The focus of his existence was survival with some semblance of sanity. With that singular goal, he concentrated on anything but what the coming evening would entail. And how many evenings after that? How long would it take for his friends to find a way to extricate him from Ztar's clutches without endangering Earth? No way to know. As much as he despised what the Shi'ar had done, they were the best hope. If Xavier could persuade Lilandra and her government to change their position in the matter, then the Turzents would face a force they would likely back down to. That was Warren's hope. With the Shi'ar shielding Earth, the X-men would be free to rescue him. Yes, he told himself, that was the most logical path to liberty. And so he placed his faith in Xavier's powers of persuasion – they rarely failed.

###

Archangel was adjusting, Sukja surmised with tentative relief. 'Don't get over confident, attendant,' he warned himself. 'We have a long way to go and many volatile times lie ahead.' Yet he couldn't help but feel encouraged. He was confident in his ability to manage the Human; it was the Turzent that caused the most concern.

Ztar was unpredictable in bedmate matters. The past few days, he had shown positive signs in relearning to care about nighttime liaisons; something over the years the man had lost to sexual frustration and deep-seated anger. Bedmates had become objects to an end, nothing more. Perhaps with Archangel, that would change – perhaps Ztar would come to care about the person within the body lying beneath him. Sukja prayed each night to his God for that miracle…and that Archangel survived long enough for the miracle to unfold.

###

For a second night in a row, Ztar went easy on Archangel. Sukja had suggested continuing the gentle approach and he agreed. The Human was adapting and Ztar didn't want to risk a backslide. But he did warn Archangel not to always expect that he'd hold himself and his lust in check.

/ _My desires for you are varied and intense, Archangel, and you are to satisfy all of them,_ / he'd instructed. The resulting smoldering wrath and disgust emanating from the Human was stinging, but Ztar was unmoved. A companion's sole purpose was to indulge their emperor – that was their duty. He was well within his rights to expect full compliance and felt he'd been more than considerate in personally ensuring the man fully understood that role.

###

_A/N: Oh, so many of you out there reading, but only a few brave souls posting reviews. I won't nag; just would love to hear from the silent majority._

_To my reviewers thus far, you are truly wonderful people. Thank you, thank you! You make my writer's spirit soar._

_Hope you enjoyed this section as we delved a bit more beyond Warren's immediate predicament. As the intensity of his circumstance eases ever so gradually, more of life beyond the bedchamber comes into play. _

_See you soon for C8._


	8. Chapter 8

_Heartfelt thanks to ArtistofLight for your ongoing support and reviews! Love hearing the emotional responses each segments brings and what in particular stirs you. _

_To the rest of my readers…I'm truly thrilled that so many people are following Warren's story. It's within your power to take me from thrilled to ecstatic by dropping in even a tiny little review. _

_To all, hope you enjoy this next installment!_

**Chapter 8**

The following morning, his 11th day of captivity, Warren woke up to the sight of a blue, green, and white planet outside his window. For a millisecond, he thought it was Earth, but he realized the Mi-Lartui must be orbiting the planet Sukja mentioned. Warren tried to recall the name. 'Tra- something. Trat-. No. Trapia!'

With nothing else to do, he watched for some time as the ship circled the blue and green world. It reminded him so much of Earth his heart hurt, but intense excitement also filled him. His wings tingled with anticipation of flight. He tried not to get hopes too high, lest they be crushed by Ztar or unforeseen events that cancelled the outing.

When the inevitable negative thoughts rose up about the planetary visit, Warren chose to push them down. 'You're being manipulated.' 'This is just a ploy.' 'It'll only be temporary freedom from your prison.' Regardless of Ztar's motives, if Warren was allowed the chance to fly, he would enjoy it for his own sake. To hell with the Emperor and Sukja and whatever mind games they may be playing. They would not take the joy of flying from him. And so he allowed himself to be cautiously excited. It would be his first bit of happiness since Ztar.

Happy was far from what he'd been the previous evening. Ztar had told him the "gentle treatment" wouldn't last. 'Arrogant bastard!' he fumed all over again, rising from the window seat, snapping his wings in emphasis. 'God, I hate him!' He needed more strong tea. Coffee would have been so much better, but that was back on Earth. With that small thought, feelings of loss and pain welled up again.

"Please let them come for me soon," he whispered in prayer as he poured the hot tea. With disgust, he noted his hand was shaking slightly from emotions. 'Not the tough guy you figured yourself to be, huh Worthington? Why you letting the bastard get to you so much?'

He returned to the window seat, leaned back and pretended it was Earth hanging in the blackness of space outside the alien ship. 'Why does rape get to anyone so much? Not just that, though – you were traded like chattel by people you trusted. Shi'ar bastards! And Xavier let them? What the fuck?'

Warren tried to rise up the anger, but it suddenly abandoned him…like he prayed the X-men hadn't done. He refused to believe they wouldn't come – they would. Leave no one behind…it was their code. Maybe under dire circumstances you had to do that temporarily, but X-men always went back for their own. That's what Xavier and the others would do. Let the Turzents have him temporarily as no other option was available at the time; then when the bastards thought they'd gotten away with their crime, the X-men would strike.

Playing out different rescue scenarios, time passed without the need to deal with difficult emotions. Sukja told him to be ready at 12.5. As far as Warren could guessimate, that translated to roughly 10:00 am back home. The attendant also said Warren should wear his flight suit, referring to his X-man uniform.

'So my uniform that had represented so much is now relegated to being a mere flying suit,' he thought bitterly.

His front door chimed precisely at the appointed time. He followed Sukja down to the shuttle deck where two crewmembers were waiting in front of one of the berthed shuttles. 'Pilot and co pilot?' Warren wondered. 'More likely guards, or both.'

"Enjoy your excursion," Sukja said with a smile.

"You're not coming?" He'd actually thought the man would. It would be just Warren and the guards? That seemed odd. Then again, if he failed to return, Earth would be punished…pretty good insurance against him wandering off.

"No. This is your time with Ztar." Sukja turned abruptly and headed toward the exit.

"_Ztar!_" Warren fumed instantly.

The Ozjaerian stopped abruptly and turned back to face Warren. "Yes. It is a rare occurrence, but he chose to set aside several matters to spend the rest of the morning with his companion." Then the bay door opened and Sukja disappeared.

Warren swung back toward the shuttle and gnashed teeth at the term that had taken on new, demeaning connotations. 'Sonabitch is coming along. Great! What does he want? Some male bonding time? Get to know the victim better? God, this is absurdity!'

"Archangel, we are ready to depart," one of the officers stated flatly when Warren remained rooted in place, staring heatedly at the shuttle. The second man ducked inside the craft.

"Ztar's already in there?"

"Yes."

Warren almost turned around. Almost. He so-o-o needed the airtime. Wings spread of their own volition at the mere thought of catching the wind, yet Ztar would be there. / _Want to watch your play toy in the air?_ / he projected angrily toward the shuttle, but no reply bounced back.

"Archangel, please board the shuttle. Emperor Ztar is waiting." The guard's order was issued with perfect decorum.

'And I should care?' he snapped back silently. 'But you need the airtime, flyboy,' he gave himself. 'Don't deny yourself because the bastard decides to tag along. You need to keep yourself together 'til the X-men come and this will help.' And so with a healthy doze of mental grumbling he very much hoped Ztar tapped into, he obediently moved inside the shuttle.

Ztar read the scathing thoughts and absorbed the icy glare Archangel shot at him upon stepping onboard, and decided instantly silence was the best option during the trip. He simply waved a hand to the seat he wanted the man to sit in. Archangel promptly took another. Ztar smirked internally. 'The spirit indeed survives.'

While he did want to witness the Human in flight, he really had no intention of carrying on an involved conversation with Archangel. The Emperor was trying to rein in runaway feelings about his imperial companion. Uncontrolled emotions were a dangerous thing in an imperial ruler. Bedmates were just that – bedmates, he had reminded himself. There was little else they need do beyond provide pleasure at night.

That attitude differed little from rulers of the past. His people had a long history of emperors and empresses and most of them had one or more bedmates in addition to their spouse. While Ztar had yet to take a spouse and preferred to have only one bedmate at a time, he followed tradition in most ways. In that tradition, it was an emperor's right to take whomever they wished as a nighttime companion, and rarely did those companions served any purpose beyond the bed. And so during the brief ride to Trapia's surface, he chose to contemplate imperial matters rather than engage Archangel in any form of conversation.

As the craft dropped through atmosphere and wisps of clouds, Warren began to tingle inside. Trapia did look so much like Earth. 'Made the right decision.'

The shuttle landed on a flat grassy area in the middle of a breathtaking valley at the foot of a snowcapped mountain range. Did Ztar choose this location based on Warren's mental retreat? The odds were he did.

/ _Yes, Archangel. You are correct,_ / the words slid into his mind gently.

He shot a visual dagger at Ztar. It was annoying that the alien hadn't been as "elsewhere" as outward signs said – he'd remember that. / _I won't be manipulated,_ / he fired back. Ztar's eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing. At least the man had the decency to not attempt small talk on the way down.

The pilot opened the shuttle hatch. Ztar rose and stood in front of Archangel, taking the Human's upper arms in his large hands with a firm grip.

"_Do_ remember what's at stake. When I call, you will come immediately. For the most part, I will give you freedom from telepathic monitoring for the sake of your enjoyment. When I re-establish contact, I will tell you. If you betray my trust, I will punish your world severely. Understand?"

"Understood," Warren answered, letting hatred ooze.

"Good. There are no creatures in the air that you need to worry about. On the ground, however, are large carnivores. If you land, be extremely wary."

As if to emphasize the warning, the pilots had exited the shuttle and stood with guns at the ready on either side of the door.

Ztar released Warren and he moved quickly out of the shuttle, not trusting the Emperor wouldn't change his mind. One powerful leap and flap of wings and he was airborne…and instantly giddy with joy.

'God, this feels _so-o-o_ _good!_'

His wings beat hard, a movement they hadn't performed in…how many days? The physical exertion was glorious release. Higher and higher he flew, gaining speed, drinking in the wind, welcoming the roar in his ears, feeling the changes in temperature and pressure as he climbed. Freedom's rapture swept through him. His soul sang as its most basic need was filled.

Tears of joy and relief that made his vision swim were quickly swept away by the wind. The embrace of the open horizon was like the welcoming arms of a lover after a long separation. Warren was where he was born to be – on wing in the firmament. 'If only it were Earth's blue expanse.' Sighing for what could not be, he rode the currents of the alien world; wings spread wide catching the warmth of Trapia's star. So long without sunlight. He hadn't realized until then how much he had missed it.

Leveling out and hovering, he looked down. The shuttle was small from his height, but every detail of the craft and the three Turzents were clearly visible to his keen eyesight. Ztar rested on the hatch ramp looking up at him. The guards remained on either side of their Emperor. He didn't like being watched, but that wouldn't stop him from enjoying every moment of his escape. 'Ztar be damn!'

He went through some X-man aerial practice maneuvers. He knew them as well as he knew himself and they came automatically, but having been cooped up for 16 days – first on the Shi'ar cruiser during the negotiations and then with Ztar – the exercises were exhilarating.

Warren spent a long time putting himself through the paces. When he'd had enough of a workout, he decided since he had an audience to give them a bit more of a show. He went into a peregrine falcon, high-speed spiral dive toward the shuttle, pushing himself to the limit. The wind screamed past as he hurtled down.

###

Ztar watched Archangel swoop, climb, dive, and bank – it was mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. Archangel's agility and maneuverability were extraordinary. Being able to see the winged flier airborne was worth ignoring imperial responsibilities for half a morning. 'So magnificent. What would it be like to be up there? To be that free?'

Sunlight flashed off white feathers as the Human moved like a streak through the air. It was obvious Archangel was putting himself through an exercise run. Ztar could confirm with a quick mental touch, but he said he would not intrude.

That wasn't completely honest. Although he did not intrude telepathically, his empathic connection was working overtime. Archangel's euphoria transmitted to Ztar, enthralling him with the intensity. Elation. Freedom. Deep, profound joy. The impacts swayed him as he swam in vicarious emotions.

Finally, the winged being pulled up and hovered. The Emperor watched Archangel's spiraling dive and the speed reached was breathtaking. The flier rocketed straight for the shuttle. At what seemed the last possible moment, wings spread and Archangel leveled out about 15 feet above the ground, swerved sharply to the left, and was quickly out of sight beyond the trees that surrounded the small valley. 'Show-off' was the word that came to Ztar's mind. He couldn't help but smile.

###

With the first rush of exhilaration past, Warren took in the smells and sights of the alien world. The trees had different forms and details than those of Earth. Colors were off, and the smell of the air had a twinge of something he couldn't name. 'All in all, though, amazingly similar to home,' he summarized. Even the clouds were similar. 'Isn't that something?' One thing that felt especially odd was the magnetic currents – they weren't right. 'Definitely not Earth.'

Speeding along the tops of the trees, he streaked toward the mountains. A small river caught his eye and he swooped lower to follow it upstream as close to the water as he dared. Dodging, swerving, veering, up and down – he followed the contours of the riverbed. The world became a blur as powerful wings propelled him faster and faster. Around another bend in the creek. Suddenly, the face of a waterfall sprang in front of him.

'Shit!' Warren pulled up with all his might to avoid crashing into the rocky cliff. He brought himself to a hover about 30 feet above the terrain, heart racing.

"Whew, flyboy! That was close." But the resulting adrenaline rush felt good.

Looking around, he realized had gone quite a distance. As always, though, his sense of direction told him where the shuttle sat. Or _did_ it?

'This is not Earth, buddy!' he scolded. Magnetic currents gave him his homing abilities and they were different here. Still, he was pretty certain of the general direction of the shuttle. So up he went again, higher and higher. He felt relief when he spotted the small valley and its visitor. Even from that distance, he could see Ztar milling around and the guards in position protectively near their monarch.

Warren tested where magnetics would have told him to go, and it was off by about 15 degrees. In fact, as he concentrated, it felt as if there were two magnetic souths, which was what his internal compass was attuned to; on Earth. The second, weaker field was likely responsible for the off-target navigation. Simply put, his body was not calibrated to Trapia's unseen energy flows. It was an unsettling sensation.

He continued to explore, keeping tabs on the shuttle location. At one point, he landed on a mountain precipice to take in the view. Trapia's mountains were a breathtaking place. Like a picture post card with mountains, valleys, and forests. He could live there. Then remembering the warning about carnivores, he didn't dally.

Leaving the precipice, he enjoyed one of his favorite pastimes from when he stayed at his Colorado aerie – riding mountain thermals. Sadly, the alien world had no eagles with which to soar. As far as Warren could tell, he was alone in the Trapian firmament. Catching an updraft, he let it sweep him higher and higher until dissipating. Then banking, he side-slipped into a dive, pulling his wings closer, and plunged toward the mountain below. Highly-sensitive nerves at the base of feathers detected the subtle changes in the eddies and currents, telling him where to find the next updraft. Expanding wings to their full reach, he caught one and rose rapidly once more.

'Better than any rollercoaster!'

###

Ztar considered once again his luck in discovering the Human. If he hadn't bothered to look in on the Earthlings who accompanied the Shi'ar that fateful day…

He shook his head in the wonder of it all. Perhaps the Gods of Sat'rey still looked favorably upon him, though he'd fallen away from his beliefs since that horrible day so many years ago. Forcibly, he pulled thinking away from that painful time and refocused empathically on his companion. While the man was out of eyesight, he was not out of empathic range. Closing his eyes, Ztar rode the emotional rollercoaster along side the winged mutant. Rising on the winds, dropping with gravity – up, down. A thrill ride. What would it be like to be a wind rider amongst the clouds?

The vicarious experience was intoxicating. Ztar immersed himself, losing awareness of his own surroundings. Through Archangel's joyous flight, he rose above worldly cares and their burdens. For a short while, he was as free as the being soaring high above. For some unfathomable reason, the Gods had given him that beautiful and exquisite being. Wild freedom was his to capture and hold in the form of Archangel. 'You belong to me – I shall know every molecule of you!' Heat rose in his groin.

Suddenly, the voice of the pilot/guard broken through his reverie.

"Emperor, it is time."

###

Warren had no idea how much time had passed when he got the call. His heart sank, but he knew he had to return immediately. Saying goodbye to the mountains that were nearly as good as the Rockies he loved so much, he headed back. Approaching the valley, he noticed Ztar had moved away from shuttle by several yards and was watching for him. As he cleared the tree line of the valley, he felt Ztar's mental touch.

/ _I want you to fly directly to me, Archangel._ /

He groaned in disgust. As Warren drew near, Ztar added to the command, / _Directly into my arms._ /

Warren grimaced. That was a tricky maneuver when he _wanted_ to do it, and Warren definitely did not. He wondered if he would knock Ztar on his ass with backwash from his wings – _that_ would be amusing!

/ _Not likely,_ / Ztar retorted. Warren winced.

As the Human came in for a landing, Ztar stood his ground. 15 feet, 10 feet, 6 feet… Ztar reach up and grabbed Archangel's waist as the man rotated to vertical. The air swirled around them from beating wings, the rhythmic thrumming of feathers against air filled his ears. 'By the gods, he is _so_ beautiful!' Ztar marveled, desire flaring brilliantly. Plucking the Human from the air, Ztar pulled him in, pressing Archangel's chest against his own. The wings spread wide one final time before folding in to the body.

"You are the most amazing being I have ever laid eyes on," Ztar stated with actual awe. He let Archangel slide down along his body to the ground, hands still encircling the slender waist. 'I want you now!' he thought to himself.

Warren saw that look flare in Ztar's eyes and an involuntary shiver raced down his spine. "Time to go ba-" He wasn't able to complete the question as Ztar's mouth swooped down to clamp down on his. The kiss was demanding, rough, and hungry. One hand moved from the waist to a wing base and grabbed hold, pulling Warren in tightly. Then just as suddenly, Ztar broke away and started to the shuttle.

"Time to go!" he barked to the pilots; sexual hunger raging.

Warren prayed the kiss didn't foreshadow an aggressive night. Watching the alien warily from his shuttle seat, Warren could see fire flickering in the brown eyes, the golden flecks almost flashing. Warren remained quiet and calm on the outside to not exacerbate the situation, but that was opposite of how he felt inside. He was getting the distinct impression that Ztar may not wait until night. And if the fire in the man's eyes translated to sexual aggression, nothing was going to be gentle. Warren started to feel ill.

As soon as they landed, Ztar dragged Archangel by the arm from the shuttle. He'd waste little time getting what he wanted regardless that it broke his self-imposed rule about keeping nighttime pleasures separate from day. Straight to the elevator, up to the imperial deck, and directly to Archangel's chambers. Once inside, Ztar pinned Archangel to the wall, one hand on the Human's chest and the other holding the perfect chin. He looked into the crystalline-blue eyes and saw the trepidation. It served only to heighten the rampaging desire he was controlling by the barest thread.

"Five minutes, Archangel. Then I return. Be out of those clothes and in that bed!" Ztar commanded in a voice already thick with lust. He released his bedmate abruptly and strode through the private entrance to his adjoining chambers.

Dread ran through Warren like liquid ice. Ztar was obviously going to be aggressive. If it turned into a repeat of the two-fold physical and mental rape, Warren wasn't sure he'd survive. Could he find a way to quell the Emperor without angering him? Was there something he could try that would lessen what was coming? His mind raced, but no inspiration came.

With few options, Warren did as ordered. The last thing we wanted was to anger the alien needlessly. Out of the X-man uniform and into his usual loungewear, followed by a quick trip to the bathroom. The one thing he did not do was crawl into the bed. Instead, he waited for Ztar by his private entrance, hoping to defuse the situation somewhat before getting pinned under the man. His heart pounded and body vibrated from a flood of adrenaline that had no outlet.

'God, don't let this be like the first nights. Can't take that again!' he prayed to a God he hoped hadn't abandoned him completely.

When Ztar came through the entrance, he, too, had changed, lounge pants, but no top. He came to an abrupt halt at seeing Warren, but did not comment that he wasn't where he was told to be. Disobedience did not appear to fan the raging fire in the Turzent's dark eyes, but it didn't diminish either. Dread escalated.

'Not again!' How much more could he endure and remain sane? Warren was desperate to find anything that might douse the flames.

"Ztar, maybe we could have a drink first…?" Warren offered faintly, the only thing that sprang to mind.

The large, brown eyes narrowed. "You are _not_ where I told you to be!" The accusation finally came as a snarl.

"It doesn't have to be like this – you're going to be brutal-"

Ztar lunged forward with an attempt to grab, but lightening reflexes kept Warren out of the alien's grasp.

"I will have you anyway I wish! Submit or I will _destroy_ your pathetic world!"

At the mercy once again of the alien who cared only about satisfying his own sadistic needs. "Please, calm down first. I'll do what you want, but not like this!" he pleaded, hoping to get through somehow.

The man said nothing, but he didn't advance either. Warren watched with hyper-alert senses. Ztar's body trembled slightly and one hand twitched subtly as if a fierce internal battle was raging. All Warren wanted to do was fly away. He searched looked for an escape – any escape, but running from his tormentor would gain him nothing. Besides, there was nowhere to go. He felt himself sliding toward desperation.

Building sexual rage was overwhelming Ztar. He had to have Archangel! His body burned to take his exquisite possession without restraint – the beast within him needed to be fed, but what little remained of his rational mind reminded of the potential cost…Archangel's psyche was still fragile. Ztar was in turmoil.

Then empathic senses caught Archangel's rising fear and he eyed the object of his desire. A sudden trembled of the wings threw fuel on the already roaring fire and Ztar was consumed; reason and logic trumped in a blinding flashover. Ztar grabbed and pulled Archangel swiftly to him.

The snatch caught Warren by surprise. What followed was a brutal, suffocating kiss. It went on forever. The hand behind his head wouldn't allow Warren to pull back even for air. Ribs threatened to crack under Ztar's powerful arm. Lungs struggled within the crushing embrace. He needed air! In desperation, Warren brought his knee up hard into Ztar's groin. Shocked and in pain, the alien staggered back, eyes sparking with new fury.

"Ztar!" Warren said quickly, scrambling beyond the Emperor's reach. "You were suffocating me – I couldn't _breathe!_"

Hands on knees, Ztar bent over glaring at Warren. Anger radiated from the Turzent. 'Oh, god – I made it worse!' Warren's blood turned to ice water. Like prey that knew it had been spotted, Warren remained perfectly still. Ztar did not lash out instantly out as Warren feared…the alien hesitated.

As seconds of eternity ticked, the angry fire in Turzent's eyes made the gold flecks spark. Rage seemingly blended with uncontrolled lust as the powerful man stood upright slowly, the flashing eyes never leaving Warren's.

'Bad…this is going to be very bad!' Warren knew without doubt.

Suddenly, a calm voice whispered in his mind, 'touch with your soul,' and something stirred inside somewhere that Warren hadn't felt before. 'Reach deep,' it beckoned. He felt himself detach from the fear with an ease that did not come from conscious will. Compelled to close his eyes and let go, Warren turned inward to the tranquility he felt when he was one with the wind, floating on updrafts, weightless, free. He found that serenity, gathered it until almost tangible, and sent it out to Ztar as a gift, an offering – projecting as he had learned from his telepathic mentor. Warren imagined peacefulness pouring through Ztar, transforming the heat of anger to cool tranquility. Soothing…smoothing…stillness.

At any moment, Warren expected to be grabbed again. To his amazement, that did not happen. After what seemed like forever, Warren opened his eyes, praying for a miracle.

Ztar dropped his head and exhaled slowly. Then inhaled and exhaled. In. Out. In…out…

Warren waited, not daring to breathe. Then when the Emperor looked back up, the rage and hunger were gone from the brown orbs. Warren took a hesitant breath.

"I don't know _how_ you did that," Ztar said with a quiet, almost shaky voice, "but…it was…effective."

With that, Ztar exited to his chambers.

###

Ztar sat on the edge of his bed. The powerful telepath was shaken. No one had ever tamed him that way – or _any_ way, for that matter. And he wasn't entirely sure what 'that way' was. Obviously, it was through a mental touch, but decidedly not telepathy and or any form of mind control that he could name. In no way had Ztar felt threatened or his mind invaded. In fact, it was the reverse.

Perhaps through an empathic link? Yet nothing in Archangel's mind had indicated the Human was a telepath or an empath. Plus empathic ability worked the opposite – feelings flowing _to_ the empath through the link, not out _toward_ someone else. And Ztar had never experienced anyone using his own empathic abilities against him to force a reverse connection. Puzzling!

With several minutes between him and the experience, he thanked the gods that Archangel had found a way to calm him. The sexual fever that had built up once they left Trapia killed a consort in the past. Ztar hadn't intended to cause death, but it had happened. With Archangel's healing capabilities, he doubted that would have been the result; however, the trauma may have undone all the progress made over the past many days. He may have lost his beautiful Archangel forever.

Easing himself further onto the bed, Ztar leaned back against the pillows. Closing his eyes, he relived the incident. After rolling it over in his mind several times, Ztar still could not explain how Archangel did what he had, but he was able to finally put the experience into words. In his fevered state, Ztar's mind and body wanted only one thing – Archangel, savagely. The Human had given something his _soul_ wanted even more fiercely – peace.

###

Warren paced his chambers in trepidation. The calmness he experienced while doing whatever it was he had done evaporated, quickly replaced by fear of the ramifications. Would the Emperor punish Earth? Punish him? His heart raced with wild thoughts of what the volatile lunatic may do in retribution.

The irony was that Warren wasn't even sure what happened. As a mutant, he was familiar with how abilities can manifest when a person is under extreme duress. Is that what occurred? Or was it just the mental projection training from Xavier? But without being a telepath, Warren's abilities in that area were very limited, and the Turzent had an exceptionally strong mind. Yet Ztar had been calmed. A telepath as powerful as Ztar appeared to be would hardly allow someone to control him. There would be ramifications, of that Warren was certain. For now, he could only wonder what the Emperor was thinking and perhaps planning. That unknown left him edgy and tense.

As the remainder of the day unfolded, Ztar did not return to Warren's chambers. That night when he visited, Ztar said nothing of the incident, as if it hadn't happened. The Emperor was subdued, taking what he wanted and then leaving. No words were spoken during the visit – telepathically or aloud. It was an odd and unnerving experience inside already disturbing and surreal existence.

###

Ztar was between meetings and tasks when he commed Sukja to join him. He wanted to talk about what Archangel had managed the day before. The episode nagged.

"My Emperor," Sukja greeted upon entering the imperial chambers. Ztar sat in his lounge area, leaning forward, elbows on thighs. The observant attendant knew something was bothering his ruler just from the look in the eyes. Sukja understood Ztar better than anyone; knew his moods, tastes, strengths, and weaknesses; what angered and what soothed. Ztar was not easy to work for – demanding, ambitious, impatient, and given to selfishness and anger. Blend that with a high intellect and his formidable mutant abilities and Ztar intimidated most people. Yet Sukja admired the man that had nearly single-handedly overthrown and then greatly expanded an interstellar empire. In fact, in some star systems he had conquered, Ztar was viewed as a positive change.

Sukja saw much good in the man. Power had not gone to Ztar's head. He was a strong ruler, bordering on harsh, but he was just. He respected those around him when they performed to the best of their abilities. Ztar listened to other perspectives and changed his mind when reason said he should. Years ago when he came to be the Emperor's attendant, Sukja had vowed to help Ztar live up to his potential. The Turzent ruler had many old emotional wounds and scars that needed to be healed. Progress had been made in some areas…in others, not so much, such as in the bedchamber.

"Something happened yesterday that I want to discuss," the Emperor began.

"Anything to do with Archangel?" Sukja conjectured.

Ztar sat upright. "Actually, yes," he said in surprise. "He told you?"

Sukja shook his head. "Archangel and I do not discuss you."

The Ozjaerian never ceased impressing Ztar. Sometimes his attendant's instincts were uncanny. Ztar proceeded to give a summary of Archangel's calming of the angry lust than had gripped him so fiercely.

Sukja was fascinated. What indeed had Archangel done to soothe the beast? No other bedmate had been able to do that. "Are you angry with Archangel for what he did?" Sukja needed to know.

"I thought I might be, but no," Ztar said leaning back in the chair. "I'm not sure I want him doing it again, but it did allow me to regain control. What worries me is the how. If Archangel can control that part of me, what else is he capable of?" Ztar shook his head in puzzlement. "The thing is, I can't find that Archangel knew he was able to do what he did. I probed him before he woke today and found nothing in his memories that he had ever done anything like that before. Xavier taught him rudimentary mental skills, but nothing more than a non-telepathic mind could perform. The closest I found was his training on mental projection, but that was to aid Xavier in communicating with Archangel telepathically. This was much more than that."

"Did your probing turn up any other abilities?"

"Nothing I didn't already know. But if he wasn't aware of this ability, there might be more. It's possible Archangel's mutation isn't fully matured."

Sukja knew Ztar was dancing around what was really bothering him. It wasn't Archangel's abilities, known or unknown. "Did it feel like Archangel was controlling you?" Sukja felt that since Ztar said he wasn't angry with the Human, likely the answer would be no – Sukja would almost bet his life on it. Ztar had an intense hate of anyone trying to control him.

"No, not at all. That's the odd part. The best I can do is to call it an _offering_ – one that part of me decided to accept. Some part of me welcomed it!" Ztar rose out of his chair and walked to the window to look out into the blackness of space streaked with FTL-travel star trails.

"What part of you took that offering?"

Ztar didn't answer immediately. He watched the streaks of light pass by as the ship moved through the vastness of space.

"I'm not sure. My soul perhaps? But my soul wants Archangel. He's the answer to all my desires and prayers, Sukja. He fulfills me in bed as no other has. I needed him yesterday – my desire was so strong I lost control. Why would I welcome something that denied me what I most wanted?" Ztar turned back to Sukja, perplexed.

"Sometimes, Emperor, what our mind desires is not what our soul yearns for. Sometimes we confuse the two."

Ztar began to pace. "I'm not confused, Sukja! I want Archangel – every part of me wants him. Body, mind, _and_ soul or spirit or whatever you wish to call it," he argued with a sweep of one arm. "I think about him constantly, almost to the point that I fear obsession. So you see, I am not confused about what I desire."

"But something made you choose the offering over satisfying physical need. Consider the possibility that at that specific moment, you needed the peacefulness he offered more than you needed his body."

Ztar paced and contemplated. "Perhaps I need to deal with whatever causes me to lose control," the Emperor said, more to himself than Sukja.

"Possibly your soul is saying that doing so is more important than satisfying the physical. But how do you do that?" Sukja pointed down a road he felt Ztar needed to travel.

Ztar approached the windows and looked out to space again. "I don't know. There's anger in me. It consumes me at times. I'm not sure I _can_ control it…it's all mixed up with my desires. But Archangel is strong, he can survive me." Ztar turned back to Sukja. "With him, I don't have to hold back, Sukja. If I do lose control, he will live. For the first time in years, I don't have to restrain myself."

"Yet we know he is not indestructible. We nearly lost him once already." Sukja was concerned about the turn the conversation had taken. Ztar was looking for reasons to allow himself to lose control rather than learn to retain control.

"I know that, Sukja!" Ztar retorted with a dismissive huff. "I won't push him too far mentally, I learned my lesson. But I don't have to be so careful physically. Do you understand how much that means to me? I can enjoy myself again in the bedchamber. It's been so long…" Ztar closed his eyes against the pain of years of sexual frustration.

"Is that where the anger comes from?" Sukja probed. He already knew the answer.

"Maybe…part of it," the Emperor answered with a sigh. "But perhaps Archangel can help me with that. I don't _want_ to hurt him, Sukja. If I can find that place in his mind he used to calm me yesterday, I might be able to use it. Maybe I can tap into it to keep from losing control."

Sukja considered the approach. It seemed worth trying – anything to help avoid or minimize the harm to Archangel. The pairing needed to be successful. If it was not, Sukja feared for the ruler.

"That may work. If you can prevent the anger, it would help ensure Archangel's continued service to you."

Ztar returned to the lounge area, sat heavily, and looked squarely at Sukja. The Emperor's face seemed a mix of pain and hope. "I can't lose this one, Sukja. I don't know if I can put into words what the man does to me. He creates fire in me, yes, but something else, too. It's hard to describe, but it feels like a powerful need is being satisfied – a deep ache that's finally easing. And it has nothing to do with sex."

"Then we must do whatever is necessary to ensure Archangel remains with you."

Sukja was generally pleased with where the conversation finally ended up – a potential technique to help Ztar control his dark side. The Emperor's attendant was encouraged about the most private aspect of the Emperor's life for the first time in years.

###

_A/N: There you have it. Interested in hearing thoughts/comments/observations on Ztar and Sukja's talk. The intent was to give more insight into some of Ztar's behavior and his inner struggles with rage._

_On another topic, saw _X-men: First Class_ today and thoroughly enjoyed it despite the moviemakers tinkering with X-men canon/history. I felt the actors portraying Charles and Erik were perfect. In many ways, their friendship did honor X-men history and their relationship in the comic lore. And the story stayed focused on the central characters and plotline and didn't wander off into a lot of background on the young recruits. Good, tight storytelling._

_One thing that struck me was the year/headline event the writers used. Since the Cuban missile crisis took place in October/November 1962 and the X-men comic debuted in 1963, it was a nice nod to comic-verse canon._

_All in all, a movie I'll buy. _


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I'm blown away with how many people are following Warren's story! I appreciate each and every one of you. The vast majority are reading anonymously, but a few wonderful people have chosen to post reviews. Gratitude and deep appreciation to Silberstreif, ArtistOfLight, and Louisestarfly…you know how to make a writer's heart soar!_

_Silberstreif posed a question at the end of C6 review about an apparent conflict over the number of worlds in the Turzent Empire. My apologies for less than clear character dialogue regarding that. Here's the scoop:_

_The numbers are right, it was my wording that was confusing. When Ztar joined the military, the old Ta'oc Empire (which he renamed once Emperor) had 40 inhabited worlds. As the race grew technologically over the decades and FTL-drive became faster and faster, their rate of expansion accelerated. Ztar's military stint coincided with significant strides in all areas of space technology, thus laying the groundwork for the race to greatly expand its reach. By the time Ztar named himself emperor, the Turzent's had added/conquered another 19 world's, for a total of 59. Ztar brought another 12 realms (70+ worlds) into their empire. The 150-year reference was about some of the earlier worlds the Turzents conquered and was a rounded-off number, and not meant to refer to all 59 Ta'oc Empire worlds (bad wording on my part). Actually, the very first worlds the Turzent's acquired go much further back than 150 years before "Sacrifice." _

_If anyone is interested, I can post a list of the Turzent Empire worlds and a timeline at the end of this book as the 22__nd__ chapter. Just let me know if you'd like to see that._

_With all that said, let's get to the next chapter._

**Chapter 9**

Warren began segmenting time two ways – Ztar time and computer time. Meals weren't a reliable measure as he ate whenever he was hungry, unless Sukja joined him. Then they ate on the Ozjaerian's schedule. His primary focus continued to be learning the official language of the empire. First, he'd learn the spoken language, later he'd tackle the written version. But you can only focus on one thing for so long. Language lessons he broke up with explorations of an array of diverse subjects. Between the Mi-Lartui's own data libraries and the imperial comnet, an interstellar version of the worldwide web, Warren's curiosity could be indulged endlessly. While exploring worlds, people, science, art, and history, he could keep from dwelling on his future and on the scourge of his existence – Ztar time.

At least the Ztar segment was limited to a couple hours each night. Painful and humiliating, but limited. The man still treated him as nothing more than a sex slave, but perhaps it was best that way….kept things impersonal. 'Dehumanized, is more like it!' he had fumed more than once.

When he did take stock of his mental state and future, Warren found he was vacillating between anger, detachment, and self-pity. Anger was acceptable, but it came in fits and bursts. Detachment was a relief. Self-pity was not to his liking, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

'Life has shit on you big time, flyboy,' he told the image in the mirror one particularly depressing morning. 'Worse than Apocalypse – at least he made you a kickass horseman. How far you've fallen, Archangel! Just a sex toy for a sadistic alien.' He had slammed his fist into the mirror image hoping to break it, but no. Even that simple act of defiance was denied him. He'd spent a good couple hours sulking and feeling sorry for himself that morning.

Periodically, Sukja would interrupt computer time, likely making sure Warren was "adjusting properly." He'd overheard Ztar and Sukja in the corridor one day before the telepath realized he was in the observation lounge and not in his room.

"Archangel seems quieter the past few days," the attendant told his ruler.

"He has been cooperative. It is a good sign." Ztar actually sounded pleased. Warren had silently told Ztar to go fuck himself.

"I caution you, my Emperor, he has a long road ahead to become settled into his new life. There will be good days and bad."

At that point, the conversation halted abruptly. The pair walked by the lounge door without bothering to even look his way. 'Bastards!' he shot at them.

Cooperative. The word had burned to the core. 'What goddamn _choice_ do I have?'

The more time that passed since the brush with mental oblivion, the more Ztar was reverting to aggressiveness. Or more accurately, the unpredictability and aggression. Ztar's warning of his desires being varied and intense was being fulfilled. Warren never knew what to expect any given night, keeping him even more on edge. And the alien's seeming need to possess him body and mind was as frightening as the physical aggression, maybe more so.

Most maddening – there wasn't a damn thing Warren could do about any of it. Ztar held an ax over Humanity's collective head and the only thing holding back its deadly swing was Warren's complete and unequivocal submission. Nausea washed over him at the summation, and the tears of frustration and emotional pain sprung up. They in turn, made him angry.

'Man up, Worthington! You will _not_ wimp out now. The X-men will come. It may be awhile, true – have to give them time to figure out what to do and to find you, but they'll come. We never leave anyone behind for long! That's the code.' The pep talk helped.

###

Sukja chimed Archangel's chambers. It was late afternoon and he hoped to persuade the Human to join him for a drink and conversation. Several days had passed since he and Ztar had discussed Archangel quelling the Turzent's angry episode. Sukja had hoped to pry enough information from Archangel to see if the Human had noticed anything different about Ztar. Gaining the man's perspective would help Sukja gage progress from the other side of the equation. But getting that perspective may be challenging. Archangel had no reason to trust or confide in him.

At 'enter,' Sukja let himself in. Archangel was eating at the table. It seemed like the man was always eating. He went through more food in three days than most anyone else on the ship did in twice as many days yet he gained no weight. A few days after the near mental break, Archangel's food intake rose dramatically and the ship's procurement officer made sure Sukja knew it in de'Letnoir's humorous way.

"You have a very healthy appetite!" Sukja attempted to set the right mood with gentle chiding and a nod at the snack on the table.

Archangel merely shrugged, which Sukja was coming to understand as body language meaning it wasn't important or he didn't care.

"Would you like some Dison?" Sukja set down the bottle he brought with him.

"Why not," Warren answered flatly. He really didn't care that day one way or the other. Actually, he cared very little about anything. He felt numb. Day before, angry. The day before that, depressed. The rollercoaster of emotions alone was driving him crazy.

Snatching glasses from the kitchen, Sukja joined Archangel at the table, poured the liqueur, considered any last minute adjustments to the approach he'd determined earlier. Only 17 imperial standard days had passed since Archangel came aboard, but it felt like months. It had been a stressful time for everyone – Archangel, Ztar, Sukja – and time seemed to measure differently since Earth. So much pain had been endured and joyful release; too much anger and despair, and so much hope.

Sukja fervently wished that things would get easier from that point forward, but he knew there were many more difficult days and nights ahead for the trio. You do not forcibly rip someone from their home, life, and loved ones and expect any sense of normalcy too soon. Normalcy may be a dream that was never reality under the circumstances. The best Sukja's pragmatic side hoped for was a routine and evenness to evolve slowly, if erratically, over the next weeks and months.

"Archangel, may I speak freely and openly?" Sukja hoped honesty was the best approach.

Warren munched on his snack of a high-protein, high-energy food bar the ship's procurement officer recommended. It was military rations, but seemed to help with his high caloric requirements. 'Lie, manipulate, be honest, I couldn't care less, Emperor's attendant,' is what Warren nearly said, but the orange-haired alien had not been cruel and had brought him back from the brink of insanity. Though Warren wasn't sure if he should thank or curse Sukja for that.

"Whatever."

Sukja wasn't sure how to interpret Archangel's reply – it was vague. He'd plunge ahead. "I know you endure much at Ztar's hand. For that, I am sorry. I want to help, but there is little I can do directly, but I do have some small influence over the Emperor as his attendant and confidante." Sukja paused to allow that to settle. "Whether you choose to believe me or not, I do wish to help you. I can't change your situation, but I can perhaps show Ztar other ways to satisfy his need of you." Sukja finished and said no more. He'd let Archangel break the silence if he so chose.

Warren studied the attendant closely. He was still learning the alien's nonverbal communication signals. Warren firmly believed in the power of understanding body language. 95% of communication is body language, at least in Humans. Whether that held true for Sukja's species, he didn't know. He studied the body signals of the alien carefully regardless. Certain patterns were already developing, such as when the attendant was concerned, his head cocked slightly to one side. Or when he was attempting to maneuver Warren, one hand would come forward almost in a touching motion.

Warren was watching intently, memorizing the posture, motions, and verbal inflictions. Sukja was likely in maneuvering mode and Warren wanted to make sure he caught every nuance.

"You tell me this why?" he finally asked without emotion as he felt none. He was in analytical mode.

Sukja was equally studying the Human. Archangel seemed emotionally empty. Likely a defensive mechanism – no emotions equaled no emotional pain. That would be typical of unwilling bedmates. Shutting down feelings was one of the most common coping techniques. It worked to Sukja's advantage, giving him a window of opportunity to talk rationally and logically with Ztar's companion.

"I want to know if what I've been suggesting to the Emperor has had any positive impacts," Sukja replied with complete honesty.

That piqued curiosity. What exactly had Ztar and Sukja discussed? Warren was not naïve enough to believe that the two didn't talk about him, likely at length, and plotted ways to manipulate his behavior. Sukja had just freely admitted that was the case. Interesting.

"And your suggestion was…" he led.

"My apologies, Archangel, but that's a confidence between me and the Emperor. Just know that I offered options."

Warren was silent for what he hoped was an uncomfortable length of time. He sipped his Dison and finished his food bar. Warren gave Sukja credit – he remained quiet.

"What do you want to know?" Curiosity was getting to him.

Sukja played the silence game in return. It was a technique that Archangel seemed to have mastered. Sukja used the silence to speak of his uncertainty on how to proceed without appearing offensive.

"Is Ztar treating you any less…aggressively?"

There were many ways Warren could answer that question, but it came down to two options – truthfully or otherwise. He cared very little which. He owed Sukja nothing. He cared not in the least whether Sukja got his answer. However, Warren did see an opportunity to possibly use Sukja for his purpose, assuming that the Emperor's attendant was being truthful about wanting to ease Warren's situation, of course…that was yet to be verified.

Since the Trapia incident, Warren's objective was to get through the nightly ordeal with as little pain as possible and get the Emperor out of his bed quickly. He'd do what was required to safeguard Earth, but nothing more. So as deplorable as it was in his eyes, Warren submitted each night to his captor. But what the Emperor required from Warren was different every night – more submission, then less submission; more resistance, then less. Do this, but not that one night, then just the opposite the next.

Warren could answer truthfully that Ztar had not lost control of himself since Trapia, but it had only been six nights. The rest…that hadn't changed. Bottom line – Ztar still satisfied his own desires without regard to Warren.

"When I see a change in Ztar's behavior, I will let you know. Until then, know that what I see is a sadistic rapist completely absorbed in his own self-gratification with absolutely no remorse or regard for the consequences." Warren felt an emotional relief after the words. It was good to say them out loud, and long overdue. It was the truth whether Sukja liked it or not.

The words were harsh, but sadly true, Sukja thought to himself. It was the dark side of the Emperor. Equally sad, it was the only side Archangel had seen. There was so much more to Ztar. It was that other side that kept Sukja in Ztar's service through the years and hopeful of the Emperor's future.

"Agreeable," Sukja accepted, choosing to not acknowledge the second half of the stinging response.

Warren set down his glass. He had learned much observing Sukja during the brief conversation. The highly-intelligent alien warranted extreme caution. Warren's early assessment of Sukja did not change...an easy-going, gentle manner belied a master manipulator. Warren would not trust him.

"Do you want anything else?" Warren inquired, but not offensively so.

"That was all, Archangel. Thank you for your time." Sukja rose.

Warren could let Sukja leave or he could ask him to stay. Warren's days were lonely. He was used to being around people and he missed it. Besides, Sukja could be a distraction from thoughts that would eventually turn to the night's activities. A little diversion would be good.

"Would you tell me more about the Empire?" It was lame as the computer held everything he could possibly want to know, yet Sukja's views would be a more personal perspective.

Sukja hesitated just enough to not look to overly eager, but he was very pleased. With business done, perhaps they could actually enjoy some time together.

"Of course," Sukja answered, returning to his seat. "What would you like to know?"

The balance of the afternoon was spent with Sukja sharing stories of the very beginnings of the Empire, stories that did not focus on Ztar, but on worlds and peoples that were the foundation of the vast Turzent realm.

###

The 18th ship day, Warren woke feeling empty once again. 18 days. Had it only been that? It seemed like weeks, months.

But there had been a small bright spot in the previous day. Warren had to admit that he enjoyed Sukja's stories. They had remained together during a light dinner and more Dison had been consumed. The Ozjaerian was a skilled storyteller and he had become so engrossed in the tales of other worlds and cultures that when Sukja said it was time to go, Warren was actually saddened.

Ztar had come as he always did. He was aggressive and the pain and shame were hard to endure. The Turzent continued to be a man of few words, but he had pushed and prodded Warren into putting up resistance. Yet as soon as that resistance crossed some imaginary line, the mental control clamped down. God, how he hated that!

Ztar was nothing if not unpredictable, and Warren couldn't figure out how to anticipate the man's constantly shifting desires. It added stress upon stress, uncertain what was coming at any moment. And heaven forbid should the alien tell him what mood he was in. No, instead he made a secret of it, leaving Warren to often head down the wrong path, prolonging the evening as the man pinning him down used nonverbal manipulation to get what he wanted. 'Probably his plan all along,' Warren conjectured bitterly. All he wanted was to get the visits over with and escape the man's clutches, not play sick games.

Yet whether the alien was predictable or otherwise didn't change the ultimate outcome, Ztar got he wanted – submission in one form or another. That was the price of Earth's safety. With no option, best to get to that point quickly and, if he could manage it, limit the pain. Until rescue came, that was the plan…submit, allow Ztar to have his body, and then the nightly payment be settled.

The thought frightened Warren though. Less than three weeks and already he was willing to give in without so much as a verbal protest. Where was his fighting spirit? His strength of will? 'Back on Earth,' he concluded sadly. 'On a planet where friends hung you out to dry.'

He didn't really mean that, did he? It wasn't true after all. There was still hope that Xavier would find a way to free him, wasn't there? He had to believe that. Meanwhile, he'd try to hold onto himself. It wouldn't do to have the X-men come only to find him mentally broken and an emotional basket case. Thus, he'd use whatever technique worked to save his sanity and keep Ztar happy enough to shield Earth.

He rose and began his morning routine. After breakfast, he slipped down to stores to restock his kitchen. Warren liked that he didn't run into many people on the way down or back. Supplies were tucked away on deck four to the rear of the ship. Unless you had business there, you wouldn't be in that part of the Mi-Lartui.

The procurement officer looked up from his PI as Warren entered his domain, an instant pointy-tooth smile welcoming his customer. de'Letnoir was Thaelan. The species planet of origin was Thael in the old Djorian-Fior territory that was long ago conquered by the Turzents in the earliest stages of their interstellar expansion. Thael was a desert world and its dominant lifeform reflected that environment. Thaelans were hairless with mottled brown and tan skin covering a fine-boned frame topped by a somewhat elongated head. Flat noses with internal closure flaps and small eyes surrounded by long, thick lashes protected from sandy winds. Their generally humanoid body was long and lean; everything seeming to be stretched out – arms, legs, fingers, toes. But they weren't tall – de'Letnoir was 5-foot 5 inches at best. A thin, flexible membrane ran from their outer thighs to the underside of the arms that acted like a cooling fin, but that was hidden beneath the man's military uniform. Culturally, Thaelans were a fun-loving, life-living species. While their early history was nomadic, as they matured technologically, permanent cities became the norm, but the Thaelans never completely abandoned their tribal ways. Children were raised by the entire neighborhood and the concept of marriage and monogamy were foreign.

"Back so soon?" the officer greeted lightheartedly.

"I'm out of a few things," Warren said sheepishly. No hiding from the procurement officer that he consumed a lot of food. His teammates had teased about it often when they were all teenagers and the joking didn't end in adulthood. In the early days, Warren actually had taken to eating secretly so his parents and non-X friends didn't see how much he really put away as it would have raised awkward questions.

"Archangel, if you keep this up we'll need to stop to resupply weeks earlier than planned. What are you doing with all the food?" the officer chided with a smile and chuckle.

"Sukja eats with me often." It wasn't entirely untrue.

The procurement officer eyed him in friendly suspicion, apparently not buying the story, but let it go. "Help yourself, as always," de'Letnoir offered with a sweep of a long, thin arm toward the commissary section of stores.

The officer had been quite helpful the first time Warren visited, explaining various items and how to prepare them. He hadn't made Warren feel uninformed or deficient of intelligence at his lack of knowledge of the alien foodstuffs, and he had appreciated the courtesy.

With an armload of groceries, Warren wound his way back to the Imperial deck. Traversing the hall, he saw Ztar and another crewmember heading his way. It was the first time he'd gotten a good look at the Emperor outside his chambers. It seemed odd, akin to seeing a co-worker outside of the office for the first time. The person is out of your frame of reference. The two aliens were so engrossed in conversation that Ztar didn't see Warren until they were within a dozen paces of each other.

Warren actually had to fight the urge to turn around and go the opposite direction, but he managed to keep walking, getting closer to his chamber door. He heard Ztar dismiss the woman, who hurriedly passed Warren down the hall to the elevator.

"Visiting stores?"

'What an obvious question,' Warren zinged sarcastically. Something about the question raised hackles. 'You'd think the ruler of a vast interstellar empire could come up with something more original.' Warren didn't bother replying. He placed his hand over the bio-sig pad as soon as he could reach it. Ztar maneuvered in front of the doorway before Warren could slip in. Shifting the parcel of food in his arms, Warren grew annoyed by the move.

"Are you settling then?" Ztar asked standing so close that Warren gave in and took a half step backward, his hackles further rising. Wings ruffled and snapped once in agitation. 'Yep, that's me. Getting settled into my life as the sex toy for a sadist,' Warren wrapped as much disgust as possible around the thought hoping Ztar was reading him.

Apparently, he was by the reaction in the Emperor's eyes. The dark orbs narrowed and flashed. Suddenly, Ztar pushed Warren into the wall with enough force to send shooting pain through his wings.

/ _The sex toy needs to learn his manners!_ /

The Emperor's voice rang in Warren's head. He looked directly up into Ztar's eyes, not wanting to back down no matter what price he may later pay. He hated the alien more than he thought he was capable. / _The same could be said of the sadist,_ / Warren shot back with venom.

Ztar pressed his large frame into Warren, pinning him against the bulkhead, parcels compressed between their bodies. "Fiery spirits arouse me, Archangel," Ztar voiced, inserting desire and lust into each word.

'Shit! Wrong reaction,' Warren fumed at himself, in the same instant realizing Ztar would hear the thought.

"Take care with your thoughts, Human," Ztar warned as he slid his hand over and down one wing, knowing the physical response he'd get.

A shiver ran through Warren as Ztar's fingers traced lightly over the feathers. 'Damn it!'

"I look forward to tonight. Feistiness runs both ways." Ztar backed away in a quick move and headed down the hall.

'God damn filthy son of bitch!' Warren was almost as upset with himself as the Turzent as he entered his chambers and the door slid silently closed. Why was it everything he did backfired?

'Because that's his strategy, fool!' he chastised himself.

A glance over at the bed and he knew Dorraj had been at work. Just another example of how he'd lost all power over his life. He had been stripped of everything – his life, possessions, his dignity, freedom, his privacy! And worst of all, he had lost control each night over what happened to his own body. Nothing was left to him – gone 18 days ago in a blink of an eye. He was given no choice in the matter. Just a fucking _concession!_

Warren let the anger well up like lava. He welcomed it. He threw the bag of food at the kitchen; containers and packages scattered across the floor. Warren paced the length of the room, wings spread in growing fury.

'Look at this place! A posh cage for the pretty little bird!' he raged. Everything was so sophisticated and proper – the furnishings, the flooring, bedding, artwork, right down to the plush bathroom towels. 'Like a fucking five-star hotel!' Rage overtopped control.

"Right down to the goddamn maid service!" he yelled at the bed.

In one grab and sweep, he ripped the bedding from the mattress and sent it flying. "Just a piece of property to fuck every night? It's _my_ body, bastard!" he roared at the bed. The pillows and finally the mattress were next to become airborne. He would have flung the bed frame, too, if it wasn't secured to the floor and wall.

Wrath and adrenaline took total control. Inanimate objects flew – anything not bolted down…chairs, vases, pictures, the table.

'Even my fucking clothes are for his convenience!' Warren ranted as he yanked open the wardrobe doors so hard the hinges gave way and one door dropped to the floor and the other dangled precariously. Warren was no weakling.

'This is what I think of your fucking clothes!' And then every piece of custom-made clothing was torn in two and thrown wildly. It felt so satisfying! But he wasn't done. The bathroom saw his fury next. Towels were expelled from their cabinet. Toiletries hurled across the suite to land in the kitchen. 'Let's see Dorraj clean this up in fifteen minutes!'

And still he raged. Storming to the kitchen, boxes and packages were ejected from the storage cabinets, their contents raining down everywhere. Liquids oozed across the counters and floor as he smashed their containers.

'So I eat too much? Maybe I'll eat nothing at all! No more concession to screw! Then we'll see what happens to the goddamn Accord!'

Glasses and dishes shattered on the floor and the walls as shards of glass or whatever material they were made of flew through the air like shrapnel. He hurled the Dison at the windows and the bottle exploded; liqueur running to the floor. God, breaking dishes felt good! The sound alone was gratifying.

Realizing he'd missed the computer, and started in that direction, but he hesitated. The computer had been his one daily escape – often his only companion. He left it. Then rage began to wane he stood amid the destruction. He began shaking as his body crashed from the rage-induced adrenaline rush. Knees became jelly and he sank to the floor. He hadn't gone berserk like that since Apocalypse, but it had felt so incredibly good! Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply to steady himself. In…out…in…out. Warren calmed.

A minute later, he opened his eyes and surveyed the damage. The place was totally trashed. Oh, god, what would Ztar do to him – to Earth? The thought sent shivers of apprehension through him. There were numerous ways Warren imagined Ztar could exact payment for his handiwork.

'Stupid! Childish! What the fuck was I thinking?' he yelled at himself. 'Obviously, thought had _nothing_ to do with this, Worthington.'

The disaster was way beyond what he could clean up and no one would notice. He needed help.

When he felt steadier, he stood. Maybe Sukja would help? He hated to ask, but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with any other options. Ztar would learn of the damage one way or the other; he just didn't want Ztar to actually see the mess. Not because he cared what the Emperor thought of his temper tantrum, but because it would vividly illustrate how much the alien had gotten to him.

Warren pressed the direct comm to Sukja's room the attendant had shown him that first day on ship. No answer.

'Damn, now what?'

Warren was very glad he hadn't destroyed the PI. He queried the interface as to Sukja's location and was told the attendant was in Ztar's ready room. He tried getting the same information about Ztar, but that required higher security clearance than Warren had. He could only hope Sukja wasn't with Ztar.

Activating the comm, Warren paged Sukja.

"Archangel?" came the surprised reply to the comm call.

"Could you come to my chambers?" Warren asked hesitantly.

"Is something wrong?"

Warren heard the concern in Sukja's voice. "No, everything's fine. Just when you can get away…"

"I'll be right there."

Sukja was very worried. What would cause Archangel to seek him out? He nearly ran to the elevator.

As soon as Warren heard the chime, the embarrassment hit him. 'God, could I have acted more immature?' he asked himself. But he had to face up to his actions and opened the door.

Sukja looked at Archangel – something was definitely amiss. Then the man stepped back to reveal the room. Total and complete shambles! He looked sharply back at Archangel.

"Archangel? What-?" Sukja had no words as he stepped into the room and realized the scope of destruction.

"It just happened…." Warren started lamely in a near whisper. "I lost it! Ztar in the hall…he just made me so angry!" With each word, his voice grew stronger and suddenly he was on the verge of being angry again. 'I'll be damn if I apologize!'

Not in all the years that Sukja had assisted Ztar's companions had he seen such devastation. A few objects thrown and broken, yes. Outbursts of anger and rage were to be expected. But _this?_ He moved through the chambers, stepping over the debris on the floor, shards and food crunching underfoot. Nothing was left untouched, save the desk and PI.

Archangel was fidgeting to one side, watching. 'How do I handle this?' the attendant wondered.

"Sukja?" Warren prompted. Would the man help or go straight to Ztar?

Archangel's voice was tense and it was obvious that the Human was nervous. 'And he should be!' Sukja felt rare ire rising at the wanton destruction of the room he had so carefully prepared for the Human, but held emotions in check. The first order of business was to get the mess cleaned up. There would be time for anger and ramifications later. Sukja turned to the guilty party.

"I will call a cleaning crew to take care of this. You will remain in the observation room until I come for you," he commanded firmly.

'Like a naughty child sent to time-out!' he steamed and wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Worry about the price to be paid for his actions was deepening. He left and went down the hall to wait.

As he sat alone, Warren held no compunction. Regret that there would likely be reparations to be paid? Yes. Remorse for ripping apart his tastefully appointed prison cell? No. Why should he? He had every right to be angry – enraged, in fact. And if that rage resulted in the destruction of his room, so what? His _life_ had been destroyed! In fact, his room looked exactly like his life – shattered and in ruins. But it was childish to throw a violent tantrum. That he allowed himself to behave like that _did_ bother him. Yet considering the pernicious circumstances, he'd give himself a pass on the eruption.

And so he waited. It felt like days. Warren passed the time watching the star streaks. He made a conscious choice to focus on things other than his tantrum and its consequences. Instead, he relived good memories from the past, recollections of good friends and old lovers; successfully avoiding thinking too much about the here and now.

###

By the time the shocked cleaning crew had completed their work and items destroyed were replaced, nearly three hours had passed. Sukja arranged to have the clothes replaced. Archangel would need to restock his kitchen with food – it was the least the Human could do.

Sukja was ready to retrieve Archangel. While he and the crew worked, he had formed an approach to the situation. He had also determined how to frame the event for Ztar, as it would be impossible for the Emperor not to notice the change in the room's décor or to hide what Archangel did from his telepathy.

"Archangel, you can return to your chambers now," Sukja said without emotion from the doorway of the observation room.

Warren said nothing as he followed Sukja down the hall. His chambers were arranged as before, but little else was the same. The artwork and broken chairs and table were new and the bedding was different. The wardrobe doors fixed. Everything was crisp and clean with no signs of the destruction from three hours ago.

"Thank you, Sukja," Warren ventured, trying to look a little grateful, but only a little.

Sukja stood facing the perpetrator squarely. "Archangel, that behavior is not to be repeated. Destruction of Imperial property is unacceptable and will not be tolerated," Sukja said firmly.

Ire ignited. How dare the son of a bitch reprimand him! His life was totally screwed, and the attendant was scolding him for trashing a room?

"But," Sukja continued before Archangel could respond, softening his voice, "I understand. I'm not sure I would have held my anger as long as you have if I were in your place."

Warren cocked his head and studied the attendant with suspicion and narrowed eyes. He was either trying to play Warren or he was truly giving him a pass out of sympathy. "I have every reason to be angry," Warren stated bluntly, looking Sukja in the eyes.

"Agreed."

"I don't regret what I did," he pushed further, watching closely.

"Neither would I."

Warren didn't like the answers. They smacked too much of what the alien likely thought he'd want to hear. "You and Ztar should go screw each other!" he spat in disgust, turned abruptly away from the Emperor's puppet, and exited his chambers to return to the lounge.

Sitting with his back to the stars during the self-imposed time-out, he contemplated his new life, if you could call it that. He tried to examine the situation from a detached perspective.

'Okay, so days 1 through 17 you spent in shock, avoidance, and denial with a healthy dose of self-pity thrown in for good measure, but now anger is really setting in. Might like this stage better – may not hurt as much.'

Yet he knew his outlets for the anger were limited, so caution was necessary. Likely, Sukja and Ztar would not tolerate another rampage. Sukja was a potential verbal target, but Ztar would likely squelch that if Sukja complained. And he couldn't take it out on Ztar as Earth's safety rested on him cooperating with Ztar.

Cooperating meant allowing himself to be raped every night. God, how could anyone expect him to continue doing so? Did the Shi'ar and Xavier know what Ztar wanted with him when the Accord was signed? How could they not? Warren just couldn't bring himself to accept that the Professor had willingly let him be taken regardless of what the man may have known or surmised. Yet he obviously had. And there were only so many logical reasons the Emperor would have wanted Warren. With Earth's future on the line, just how much would Xavier and the Shi'ar have been willing to turn a blind eye to?

Warren sighed. So many questions with no answers. 'Stop torturing yourself.' If only he could get into the sky to clear his head, but that wasn't to be. His most precious sanctuary was available only at the whim of his enslaver. Trapia was only seven days ago and Warren couldn't image they would stop again anytime soon for his benefit.

He rose from the window bench and headed back to his room. 'Enough thinking and anger for one day. Need to pace myself emotionally or I'll drive _myself_ crazy.'

And so once again, he delved into the Turzent language lessons that provided the best distraction. When that grew tiresome, he faced de'Letnoir for the second time that day to restock the kitchen. Although Warren wasn't sure why the officer didn't say anything about the second trip – did Sukja give him a heads up? – he was grateful. Emotionally, he just wasn't sure how much more he could handle that day.

###

Sukja took Archangel's verbal lashing in stride. He had absorbed the anger from many of Ztar's past bedmates. Most of them quickly learned the futility in directing their anger at the Emperor and so Sukja usually ended up as the surrogate target. And that was fine – part of the job.

He returned to his own chambers after Archangel had stormed down the hall. Sukja would wait until Archangel returned and check on the Human through the monitoring system. If he saw any signs of a great distress or anger, he'd see what he could do to calm him.

'Hopefully, the morning's emotional eruption will be the last for today.' A sigh of resignation escaped. Unfortunately, Sukja fully expected more in the coming weeks.

###

_A/N: Just the usual feedback request here. The "emotional eruption" scene isn't new, but in light of other changes to the story, reactions to it are most welcome. Even more curious in your take on Sukja's probing of Warren earlier in the chapter, so if you care to share your thoughts on that, would love to hear them!_

_Thanks to everyone who is reading – your support is everything!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Not a lot to say upfront, so let's get right to the rampage aftermath._

**Chapter 10**

"He did _what?_" Ztar's voice was quite loud, reverberating off the walls.

Sukja feared Archangel might actually hear through the bulkhead. He would remain matter-of-fact in hopes of tempering the Emperor's reaction. "Everything has been cleaned, repaired, or replaced. He has been calm the rest of day."

"No one else ever dared go that far!" Ztar began pacing. "The whole chambers, Sukja?"

"Yes, my Emperor."

"The kitchen? The bathroom? _Everything?_"

"Complete and total destruction. Right down to the food in the storage cabinets," Sukja actually smiled at that.

Ztar looked at Sukja with an odd expression. "You find it amusing?"

"It's just that he was so very thorough, my Emperor. But he must value the PI – it was the only thing that escaped unscathed. I find that interesting."

Ztar continued pacing. He was very unhappy with the Human.

"Emperor, what are you thinking?" Sukja inquired.

"I'm upset with him, Sukja. This was a clear act of rebellion. He needs to understand that won't be tolerated."

Sukja leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes following Ztar. "I believe it more an act of pent up anger. It is a natural progression of his emotions, my Emperor. The shock and denial are wearing off. Anger, or more accurately in Archangel's case, rage comes next. I wouldn't label it rebellion."

Ztar came to a stop, holding his attendant's gaze. "I'm not sure I'm that generous."

"Give him time. The rage should also pass as he moves closer to accepting his new life."

The Emperor walked to the liquor storage and poured two glasses, handing one to Sukja before speaking again.

"So how do we handle the incident?"

"I already have. I told him his actions were unacceptable and not to be repeated. My advice is to let it go. Allow him the outburst and move on."

"I don't know if I wish to hold my tongue," Ztar admitted. He was still upset with his companion.

"Then treat it with humor, but don't retaliate out of anger – you will only fuel his," Sukja coached, hoping Ztar would follow the suggestion. "And, you don't want Archangel to think he can control your emotions with his actions. Remain in control by making calm decisions about how you react to provocation, as you always have. I'm not saying that's what Archangel intended, but if you react to his anger in kind, he may come to believe he can manipulate or control you emotionally."

Ztar contemplated Sukja's advice. It was sound from all angles. Especially the last part. He trusted Sukja completely on matters such as these. His attendant had managed many bedmate transitions over the years. When the pairing ended or failed, it was never because of Sukja. He'd listen to his attendant again with Archangel. Of all the pairings through the years, the one with Archangel _had_ to work. He wanted the Human more than he had wanted anyone in a long time.

"Very well, Sukja. We'll let it go as long as it's not repeated. My tolerance has it limits," Ztar warned as if Sukja didn't already know.

"Understood."

Ztar sipped his drink. "I told you he had a fiery spirit!" Hints of pride came through in the declaration.

"You did indeed." Sukja smiled and moved toward the exit. "I will check on Archangel to make certain he is still calm."

Ztar chuckled. "Sukja, I wouldn't call Archangel's current emotional state exactly _calm_."

###

When the door chimed, Warren knew it could only be one person. It might be Ztar, but he didn't think so – the Emperor had better things to do than deal with an unruly companion. God, he hated that term! 'Besides, Ztar doesn't announce his arrival,' he snorted.

Likely, Sukja was coming to make sure Warren was still behaving. Well, he was. To be honest, he wasn't sure how long that'd last. For the moment, all he would say was he didn't feel violent, but could feel rage simmering below the surface. Internal heat had been turning up slowly again as the day wore on and no telling when it'd reach explosive level again. He welcomed the burn of rage. Better than much of what he had been feeling for 18 agonizing days.

'Might as well get this over with,' he thought with a gulp of Dison. He had raided Ztar's liquor locker earlier to restock and had already down half the bottle sitting in his new, overstuffed chair. Sadly, it took a lot to get him drunk – healing factor and a revved up metabolism burned up alcohol too fast for inebriation to come easily.

"Enter," he said with a heavy sigh he hoped transmitted through the comm.

Sukja stepped inside the refurbished chambers. One look at the man's face and Sukja was already worried…foul mood was written all over it.

"Good evening, Archangel."

"Here to check up on the naughty Human?" Warren asked venomously, taking another long draw of alcohol.

Sukja knew instantly Ztar could not find Archangel in his current state of mind – the Emperor's anger would flare without doubt and no good would come of that.

"As a matter of fact, yes. And I'm glad I did." Sukja left the rest hang.

Warren made a point of examining the Dison in his glass. 'Should I, shouldn't I? Oh, the choices I'm forced to make!' He clenched a fist. "And why exactly is that?" he asked icily, deciding to take the attendant's dangling bait just to see where it might lead.

Sukja joined Archangel in the sitting area. "You must enjoy Ztar's more aggressive side."

Warren looked to the alien with hard eyes. That wasn't exactly where he thought the conversation would go. "Get to the point, attendant," he ordered in a low tone.

"When Ztar comes to you tonight, your attitude will determine much of how things transpire. In this mood, things will not be pleasant." Sukja hoped the honesty would get through. He really didn't want to see Archangel suffer unnecessarily at Ztar's hands.

Warren took another gulp of Dison before responding. "Things with Ztar are _never_ pleasant!" he growled.

"They can be unpleasant or very unpleasant, your choice."

Warren couldn't believe his ears. "You seem to think me a fool or an idiot. I have no choices here!" he replied with acid.

"Perhaps the wrong word. Your attitude toward Ztar will influence his treatment of you," Sukja rephrased.

"I got it already!" he snapped. 'What an arrogant son of a bitch. If I'm nice to my rapist, then I'll be treated better? God, what a crock of shit!'

Sukja knew the conversation was only inflaming the man further. Sometimes you must simply back off and let the other person be responsible for their own emotional state, and the consequences. Yet he was obligated to his monarch to try one more time. "As long as you know that your mood directly translates to how you're treated. In _that_ way, it's your choice, your decision. But since you already know all this, I'll bid you good evening."

Sukja rose and headed to the door, but paused before exiting.

"Your behavior today took some explaining. Ztar was not impressed, but tolerant knowing it was a reaction to the circumstances. However, couple that with your current mood, and you may push him exactly where you don't want him to go. Take care in your wrath, Archangel." And Sukja left the man to contemplate his words.

Warren nearly threw the bottle of Dison at the door as it closed. Nearly. As much as he hated to admit it, Sukja was right. Warren had already known if Ztar found him in a foul disposition, things would be decidedly unpleasant. So in that respect, he did actually have a choice; choice being relative – unpleasant rape or very unpleasant rape. 'Good god, what my life has come to!'

###

Ztar wrapped up his evening reviewing the last of the reports from various imperial sectors over a quiet dinner in his chambers. Thoughts turned quickly to Archangel and the heat in his body was immediate. Would Archangel always have that affect or was it the newness of the Human? Something told Ztar it would always be that way. It was powerful and intense and he never wanted it to be otherwise. The seductiveness of that body was without equal, at least to Ztar. And he willingly and enthusiastically succumbed to it.

Passing through the entry to Archangel's chambers, he looked around for the Human but did not see him. The bathroom door was open, so the Human wasn't there. Odd. He should be waiting.

Leaving Archangel's chambers, Ztar went to the only other spot he knew Archangel frequented, the observation lounge. And there he was, seated in the corner of a window bench staring out at the stars. For a moment, Ztar's heart hurt for the winged being. Immured aboard a ship in space had to be more difficult than Ztar could begin to comprehend, even with an empathic link. Archangel held a bottle of what appeared to be Dison in his hand. Would the Human turn to alcohol to drown his misery? Ztar hoped not.

"Archangel, it's time to come to bed," Ztar said plainly. No sense dancing around the issue. At first, it didn't seem Archangel had heard…no movement or reply. Ztar simply waited. Then he saw the shoulders and wings rise and lower as if he'd taken a deep breath and let it out slowly. The man rose and faced Ztar.

Warren looked at his tormentor. There he stood, waiting for Warren to willing join him in bed where he'd rape Warren for what, the 13th time? It was getting so that he might lose count. Seventeen nights with five nights off after his brush with oblivion. 'Yup, tonight's lucky 13 with no end in sight.'

After Sukja left, Warren decided he didn't want to provoke Ztar. He wasn't up for what it might mean, despite simmering anger. It had been a hard, emotionally draining day already. He would submit quietly with hopes of getting off easy; easy being relative. He just hadn't felt like waiting for the inevitable in his room.

As Archangel took slow steps toward him, the Emperor turned and headed back to the bedchambers. Things looked hopeful that the anger had been calmed. Archangel had barely cleared the doorway and Ztar took him in his arms for a deep kiss; he was already on fire and didn't care to waste time.

Warren allowed Ztar's tongue in his mouth and the Emperor probed and tasted him. He let the nearly empty bottle drop to the floor. Ztar's arms encircled and drew him in tightly. Skilled hands began to stimulate the wings and Warren trembled. It never failed to happen no matter how hard Warren attempted to stifle the response – it was an auto-reflex impossible to suppress.

Ztar released Archangel from the intense kiss and nipped the full lips before brushing his mouth across a cheek and down the neck. He desired a gasp from the Human and he squeezed his hand hard around the top edge of the wing just where it emerged from the back, holding the man close to his chest.

When Ztar squeezed the wing edge hard, it hurt – a lot! A hiss escaped Warren before he could stop it. The Emperor was holding him tight and there was no pulling away.

'Don't let be one of those nights!' Warren prayed.

Then a second, even harder grip sent shooting pain through the wing and he inhaled sharply. Warren squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. He learned early on that protests and struggles only spurred the Emperor. He would simply have to endure or things could quickly escalate. He shoved down rising anger with so much force he felt it physically.

The offending hand released its crushing grip and smoothed the bruised area with gentle strokes as Ztar's mouth returned to his. Warren couldn't help but believe Ztar was showing displeasure about the day's headline event.

When the kiss was over, Ztar pushed Archangel back slightly and looked into the blue eyes. "I see you did some redecorating."

Warren tried to meet Ztar's eyes, but it was difficult.

"If there was something you didn't like about your chambers, you should have told Sukja and he would have corrected the problem," Ztar said smoothly.

Warren remained silent. What could he say?

"I trust all is to your liking now and the room will remain as it is," Ztar subtly warned, raising Archangel's chin up with a finger to fully face him, allowing a wry smile to cross his lips.

There were many things Warren could say at that moment, none of them without expletives, but he held his tongue and anger for his own sake. He just wanted to get the night's activity over.

For the most part, Ztar held himself in check – Warren had certainly experienced worse. But when the Emperor thrust into him, it was abrupt and rough and the pain was searing. Warren thought he may have drawn blood from digging nails into his palms in an effort not to cry out. Likely, the roughness was another demonstration of displeasure for the destructive rampage. Warren would have put money on it.

###

Warren's anger continued to fester the following day. The rampage had felt good, but it only went so far. The real target was Ztar, but the Emperor was off limits if Earth was to remain unharmed. Warren imagined what he would do to the alien given a chance without ramifications. The imagery was vicious. So much so, it frightened him. Old memories of his days as Apocalypse's Death resurfaced with those brutal imaginings.

'That's _not_ what you want to become!' he warned himself. Yet the anger was intense and had no outlet. He'd do anything for a good workout in the X-mansion danger room. Why the hell didn't the imperial deck have a exercise room, punching bag – something!

His favorite distraction, the computer and language lessons, held little interest. If he did sit at the PI, he only became more agitated when he made a language mistake or when some minor thing didn't go exactly or as quickly as expected. Everything irritated.

Sukja irritated. The day after the tantrum, he managed to avoid the attendant by ignoring Sukja's chimes at his door throughout the day. By the end of the day, just the sound of the doorbell was enough to drive him over the edge. 'Good God, can't the man leave me alone for even a day?' Just the thought of the Emperor's attendant caused ire. In spite of what Warren had told himself about futility of directing his anger at Sukja, he couldn't seem to help himself.

And now the 20th morning of bondage, the damn chamber door chimed yet again. He ignored it. The mockingly cheery tones cut through the air a second infuriating time. He stormed to the bathroom and closed the door. Waiting and listening, Warren half-expected to hear Sukja in his chambers even though the attendant hadn't entered without invitation since Warren's first days on the ship. All remained quiet. 'Good!'

Awhile later, Warren ventured out to the observation lounge. Sukja should be 'at work' doing whatever it was he did for the Emperor and, therefore, Warren could likely avoid the alien if he was careful. What Sukja did all day, Warren could only imagine. He hadn't asked and Sukja hadn't shared. Whatever it might be, Warren knew the knowledge would only provide another aspect of his tortured existence with which find absurdity and preposterousness.

He paced the length of the large lounge fuming. To hell with everyone who betrayed him. To hell with Xavier! To hell with the X-men and the Shi'ar! He hoped they all rotted in hell for their crime. He hoped that hell included even a taste of what he was going through. Let them suffer what he was forced to endure.

But first, let them rescue him! Dear God, let that be what happened. Warren held to the hope that Xavier was planning his rescue in spite of what the Professor had said about no attempts. And again, he told himself he only had to hang on until then.

It wasn't long after returning to his chambers that the damn chime sounded. 'Go away!' he yelled silently at the unwelcome visitor, biting down hard on his food bar. Again, the tone rang, grating against already raw nerves. Warren continued to munch while seething.

"Archangel," a disembodied voice finally said through the comm. "I know you're there. Please let me in."

'Go fuck yourself,' he replied silently, blood pressure rising higher.

Sukja considered the options from outside Archangel's chambers. He knew from Ztar that the Human had been in constant turmoil that day. As Ztar put it, "the empathic connection sizzles." Sukja worried that the anger would erupt once again, possibly at a less desirable target than dishes and furnishings – Ztar for instance. A violent explosion in Ztar's presence was something Sukja wanted to avoid for Archangel's sake. The anger needed to be vented in a controlled manner and the Emperor's attendant was all too willing to be the release valve, at least verbally. But he couldn't do that effectively from the other side of the door.

"Archangel, you're being childish," he goaded, hoping that would get the man's attention.

Warren recognized the provocation. 'Yup, that's me – childish. Just like my tantrum the other day. My right under the circumstances, bastard! I'm still not letting you in here.'

Sukja sighed when no response was forthcoming. He could let himself in, but that set a precedent that his word was not to be trusted. He'd told Archangel in the very beginning that his chambers were his to control, Ztar aside of course. Sukja would not break his word.

"Self-imposed isolation is not the answer. You only hurt yourself. But if that's the game you wish to play, I can wait for as long as it takes," Sukja poked as he leaned against the bulkhead across from the door. 'Let's see how that settles.'

'Game? He thinks this is a _game?_ Where's the goddamn mute button?' Warren smoldered, storming over to the comm control. Finding none, he started toward the bathroom for some peace and quiet.

"Childish games and outbursts from someone so intelligent are regretful," Sukja said filling his voice with disappointment. "To think a _warrior_ capable of such behavior…" he let his voice trail off.

Warren stopped in mid stride. A string of expletives burned through his brain. 'That's it – this guy's going down!' he declared despite knowing that Sukja was intentionally egging him on. It no longer mattered. He charged the door, slammed his hand onto the control panel and was further enraged as the door slid opened quietly; the silent movement mocking him.

There stood the attendant, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed on his chest. The picture of equanimity.

'Perhaps I should rip that calm face off with my bare hands,' Warren thought viciously. It was all he could do not to attack. "It's not wise to rile this warrior, alien!" Warren glared through slitted eyes. Wings spread as he took a step toward his potential victim.

Sukja was a bit unnerved by the hostility radiating off the Human, but he didn't let it show. He had been threatened many times in the past by angry bedmates. "Understood. However, I'm not really what's riling you," Sukja pointed out, not moving from his spot.

Warren eyed the alien. He knew instantly where Sukja was leading and he'd have nothing to do with it. Containing the urge for physical violence with great effort, he leaned threateningly close to Sukja. "Now who's playing games? Psychological maneuverings won't work on me," Warren countered with a coolness he didn't feel. The alien was trying to defuse his anger. Warren liked the anger – it was less painful. He would not let it go easily.

"No, they won't. I see that." Sukja watched Archangel with concern. Everything about the Human screamed barely contained rage. At the same time, he was impressed at just how controlled that fury was. The man had not attacked him as the body language said he was ready to. And Archangel's thinking was keen, not rash or illogical. Another sign of a seasoned warrior – don't let heated emotions mar your judgment; that could get you killed. But Sukja worried the pent up anger could eventually wear down that control. No matter how in check Archangel was at the moment, he could still become volatile and unpredictable. That was unacceptable in an Imperial bedmate. And while Earth was a powerful motivator for Archangel to restrain himself, as the rampage in his chambers proved, that control can slip. It was Sukja's job to ensure the risk of that recurring was minimized.

"Then this conversation is over!" and Warren turned to re-enter his chambers.

Right behind Archangel, Sukja prevented the door from sliding shut. "I disagree," he said quietly.

Warren turned sharply, snapped open his wings in a threatening pose, and got into Sukja's face, trapping the alien between himself and the doorframe. Sukja didn't flinch, Warren noted with grudging appreciation.

"Do not push me," he growled. "I'm capable of more than you may want to know."

Sukja did not move, locking onto Archangel's flashing eyes. "Anger is a pleasant change, isn't it?"

"_Violence_ could be even more pleasant – at least for me," Warren sneered, cocking his head and giving the manipulator a wicked look. Sukja was still playing mind games.

Though unfazed by the implied threat, Sukja did not doubt Archangel more than capable of inflicting a lot of damage if he chose to. He banked on the Human's will to hold himself back.

"You and I both know that would get you nowhere in the end. But the anger needs to be dealt with. So what do you want to do?" Sukja challenged.

Warren considered the alien and his words. Sukja wasn't saying anything he didn't already know. Violence would gain him nothing, so Warren chose not to attack the infuriating imperial attendant. The risk and potential price were too high. But the anger…that he would hang on to. So much had been taken from him, his anger he would keep!

"The Accord protects you from me, alien," Warren said in his most lethal voice, "but it does not dictate my state of mind. I will feel what I wish!" With that, he pulled in his wings and backed away in disgust, releasing Sukja from the doorway.

Sukja edged more into Archangel's chambers. It did not go unnoticed.

"I did _not_ give you permission to enter," Warren warned, blocking Sukja's path.

The wings had drawn close to the body. A sign the anger was dissipating? "But you didn't tell me to leave, either. I took that as an invitation."

"You presume too much."

"My I enter?"

Warren considered. He felt anger cooling. After all, Sukja was not its focus – Ztar was. Altercations with the attendant were meaningless. However, Sukja was still trying to manipulate his way inside, and that he would not permit.

"No."

Sukja backed off. He'd take the small interaction with Archangel as a minor success, hoping his next visit would be more fruitful. "As you wish."

After the Emperor's puppet had gone, Warren sat and stared out at the stars from the window seat. Agitation lingered, but dulled, as if the brief confrontation had released much of the energy. The attendant was the least of his concerns. Ztar would be after him again tonight, pushing for more. All Warren wanted to do was kill the man, but that wasn't currently an option. And so, he'd continue to choose submission and detachment instead of violence while refusing to be manipulated into doing more than the bare minimum to protect Earth. But what the bare minimum entailed seemed to change as often as Ztar's moods.

Warren thought back. Ztar was unpredictable to say the least, and it wasn't getting any better…swinging from wanting total submission, to wanting to tussle, to everything in between. It seemed whichever Warren did, it wasn't what Ztar wanted. Submission led to demands for more participation. When Ztar got the participation he wanted, then he wanted resistance. Yet resistance was put down with mental control. Then as soon as Warren submitted yet again, Ztar's demanded either participation or resistance.

'If I have to endure the Emperor, the very least the bastard can do it be clear about what he wants!'

The vacillation and uncertainty were adding to his already extreme stress level. If the man was insane or otherwise unstable as Warren suspected, it would explain a lot. Should he be the captive of a mentally unstable alien, then his situation may be even more dire than he first thought. Cruel and evil he could deal with – at least that was predictable. But insanity? The idea frightened him. He had dealt with insane minds before and it was never pretty.

Warren got up; anger rekindled. Tonight he'd endure his tormentor once again, not knowing what Ztar would press him to do. If Warren had to chose, it was the mental control he hated most. The pain and physical assaults, those he could learn to deal with. But losing control over your very mind? That was the ultimate violation. He desperately wanted hold on to his own will.

"Make that top priority,' Warren told himself. Yet he knew Ztar could take that from his thoughts and use it against him. It was a losing situation from every angle and it caused a loathing toward Ztar so powerful it was almost tangible.

Adding to his torment was the confinement. It was gnawing at him more each day. He meandered around his elegant cell, looking for a distraction from his own thoughts. The computer terminal beckoned, but he wasn't in the mood. He didn't want to leave his chambers in case Sukja was milling around. So he sat to watch the stars pass by as the walls closed in.

###

Three weeks had passed on Earth since the Turzents had left taking a teammate and friend with them. Logan had stormed out in a rage at the news and hadn't returned. The intensity of the reaction surprised some as it was no secret Warren and Logan rarely saw eye-to-eye and often argued. The two men were teammates, yes. Friends, no. Charles was optimistic Logan would return, while some held out little hope. Betrayal was something the Canadian would not tolerate, they pointed out. Yet the hardened fighter knew Charles had had little say in the matter.

A couple of the newer recruits also left vowing never to return, their belief in the X-men and its founder shattered. "Who's next?" they demanded. "Which of us will become the next acceptable loss and handed over to rot with the enemy?" Charles doubted the X-men would see them again – a sacred trust had been broken in their young minds and the sin too great for forgiveness.

The long-time members remained, believing with Charles that they'd find a way to free their friend from the clutches of the aliens without jeopardizing Earth's autonomy. As Scott had put it to those walking out, "If you leave now, it is _you_ who will have abandoned Warren by not staying to help find a way to save him. I for one will not give up trying to bring our teammate home."

Three weeks with little to show for the countless hours negotiating, pleading, arguing, arm twisting, and bargaining. Everywhere he turned, pragmatism reigned. Privy Earth leaders, powerful organizations like SHIELD, even other powerful mutant groups, it was always the same. The Turzents were too powerful to fight alone. Without Shi'ar might behind Earth, how could any altercation result in victory? Lying within Turzent space may not be a choice or desirable, but if the Empire didn't interfere with the Earth, why risk war or subjugation? To what gain? One life in exchange for freedom of over six billion – small price. Sad for Warren, but certainly he understood what his sacrifice gained, Charles heard too many times. It infuriated him. When had a Human being, mutant or otherwise, become disposable?

Xavier had the best legal minds in the United States review the document. The Accord was ironclad, they told him. The Shi'ar and Turzent negotiators left no loopholes; no vacuities or ambiguities. A brilliant document, one lawyer actually said in admiration. 'Oh, please extend my sympathies to Mr. Worthington's family," the man had said almost as an afterthought. Charles told the man he was looking at one of Warren's family.

The Shi'ar had cut off communications having tired of Charles' adamant pleas. "Earth is safe. The solution was without cost to the vast majority. Let it be, Charles Xavier," Lilandra's top aide said with cold detachment. "Should the Turzents breach the Accord, then call upon us," the alien offered in appeasement. And so that door closed with a thud.

Three weeks of sleepless nights had passed. When he did doze off, accusing dreams tossed and turned him. Often he'd jerk awake with guilt and anger and frustration so intense he would scream. Warren. One of his first. An almost son. The X-men who most struggled with his place and role. Who often wandered away, only to return home. Always he had returned home to the X-men. "I will never stop trying to free you!" he cried into the still darkness. "Never!"

Charles did what he could to safeguard Warren's personal and business affairs. Everyone was told Warren had gone on sabbatical. He'd been through much over the past few years, and time away for emotional healing was long overdue. "How long? Where did he go?" "How can we reach him?" "Mr. Worthington can't simply leave – he has a corporation that depends on him!" The telepath did what he could to ease fears and quell anger. What he couldn't do was provide answers.

Three weeks of living a private nightmare. Twice Xavier had used Cerebro in a vain attempt to reach out to his friend. He knew it was a senseless exercise, but he felt compelled to try. What was happening to Warren? Was he being mistreated? How was he coping? Did he hate Charles? Was he even alive? The not knowing was an agony Charles had rarely experienced…a pain worse than learning someone died. He'd tried sending a signal to the Turzents, pleading for any information about Warren. Cold silence was the only reply. Charles cried in despair and anguish.

###

For the next five nights, Warren submitted quietly, shoving anger down, hoping Ztar would ease up, settle down, even out – _something_. He hadn't. If anything, the Emperor became more erratic with constantly shifting demands, taking advantage of Warren's passivity, perhaps choosing to interpret it as acquiescence. Once again, Warren's tactic backfired and the time Ztar spent "enjoying his plaything" increased. Kiss me here, nuzzle me there, do that, do this – disgusting! And when Warren balked, Ztar used mental control or the threat of control to get what he wanted.

Some nights, Ztar wanted Warren to resist, not just lie there. His actions prodded and pushed and egged Warren on. Ztar had actually said on one occasion, "I want to see some of that fiery spirit." But any show of the fiery spirit Ztar claimed to want resulted in greater aggression and tightened mental control.

And so submission resulted in Ztar's demands for more participation and more spirit. Yet spirit or resistance lead to more aggression that bordered on punishment and demands for submission. Warren's return to more submissive behavior resulted once again in demands for more fight.

He was caught in a vicious circle and couldn't find the exit. It was looking like there was no exit. Nothing he tried eased the situation. Ztar was like quicksand, always wanting what Warren wasn't doing. Wasn't it enough that he allowed himself to be sexually assaulted every night? Why did Ztar have to make it some kind of sick game where only he knew the rules? Intolerable. He was livid. No more!

Warren paced waiting for Ztar to show. The steam cooker of emotions had built up pressure for days with no release valve. He boiled with the mere thought of another night beneath the unpredictable and self-absorb bastard. 'I'll be damn if I let Ztar turn me into a malleable whore no matter the price. To hell with the Accord! To hell with Earth!' He was drawing a line in the sand.

###

_A/N: My heartfelt gratitude to everyone reading and especially to my faithful reviewers – you make the hard work worthwhile! All feedback of any length is welcome with open arms. Even a quick "Hi, I'm here reading," would make me smile and warm my heart. Don't be bashful! Warren/Angel fans need to support each other – we're a rare and wonderful breed! :)_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Here's a mid-week update, which marks the mid-point of our story – with a bit of action in honor of that milestone! Enjoy._

**Chapter 11**

Ztar extended himself to the Human, not telepathically, but empathically. The connection he had been nurturing burned. Archangel was on the warpath. Ztar had felt the emotions escalating for the past several days, but the Human had held them in check. Apparently, that was no longer the case. He was nearing another meltdown like when he tore his chambers to shreds.

With all the stresses of ruling an empire, some rough sex would help alleviate tensions, but Ztar didn't feel inclined to deal with a bedmate's wrath – that's what Sukja did. Let him neutralize the hostility and Ztar would then enjoy his companion. The monarch reached out mentally in summons. Ztar could have explained everything to Sukja telepathically, but that's not how they operated. Details of why and how that came to be he'd long forgotten, but the arrangement worked and that's all that mattered. Somewhere, somehow, Sukja had earned Ztar's full and complete trust – a feat no one else had accomplished; thus, Ztar never probed his attendant's mind.

With sudden clarity, Ztar saw a parallel between Archangel's simmering wrath toward him and his own feelings toward the Commonwealth. The Human believed a monumental injustice had been served him, and Ztar felt Commonwealth leadership was likewise unjustly targeting him. Each new intel report seemed filled with yet more provocations and subterfuge. It made his blood boil, yet he did as the Human – restrain himself for the good of his people. Open hostilities served no one – too many innocents would lose too much.

Archangel acquiesced to Ztar to save Earth. Ztar acquiesced on many fronts to the Commonwealth to preserve peace for the Empire. They were much alike, the Turzent and the Human. Both twisted by others to serve another's purpose. For Ztar, it was the augmentation program. For Archangel, it was Apocalypse. Two men who had been determined to triumph over their oppressor. Two survivors. Both facing yet another challenge and each finding that submission was the only option to preserve what they held dear.

'Fiery spirits quelled for the greater good, right mighty Emperor?' he asked of himself.

That brought a smile. Archangel reminded Ztar of himself years ago. With fire in his heart for revenge and conquest, he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. The Human's fire wasn't quite the same in purpose, but it was the same in essence. Archangel was fighting so very hard not to be conquered; it had essentially been the same for Ztar immediately after the augmentation.

'As much as we have in common, as much as I understand your rage, Archangel, I cannot release you. I need what you give me too much. This battle for conquest, I will win.' The Emperor sighed. "But, my companion, I will do so without dousing your fire completely.'

The thoughts aroused and ignited desire in Ztar that made him shake his head in wonder. 'Maybe a little tussling is in order tonight.' Ztar snuck a quick peek into Archangel's thoughts and extended his empathic senses. 'Scorching! Perhaps the fire needs to be dampened just a bit first!' he immediately decided.

And so when his attendant arrived, Ztar hoped Sukja could quell the rage that was ready to explode within his unwilling bedmate.

###

When Sukja entered the imperial chambers, the Emperor was already in his nightwear and sitting on the edge of the bed, drink in hand.

"It's Archangel. He is quite upset. In fact, the empathic link may be ready to spontaneously combust!" Ztar had to smile at his attempt with humor.

"Not good," Sukja replied, studying his Emperor's attitude toward the situation. Ztar was amused, not irritated. Then again, Ztar wouldn't be the one sent to face the hostile former warrior.

"Archangel needs to believe I will punish his world if he refuses me," Ztar reinforced with Sukja. "But between us, I would enjoy a little spirited roughhousing…to help relieve the day's tensions."

Ztar's enjoyment of resistive sex wasn't new. Fortunately, from Ztar's perspective, Archangel was the perfect bedmate for the indulgence – former fighter and strong willed. From Archangel's perspective, it was yet another variation of Ztar's wide-ranging sexual appetite he was being forced to satisfy. Not a problem, once a bedmate was well adjusted into life of service, but Archangel was far from that. Sukja gathered himself for what he was about to say.

"My Emperor, permission to speak freely." When Ztar nodded, Sukja continued. "Then why summon me? You can easily control Archangel mentally, physically, neither or both. If you wish a struggle, why am I here?"

"I thought about that before calling you. I don't want to start something with Archangel that may get out of hand. If he feels he can resist and fight me without consequence, he will. That is not what I want. I want feist and fire, but tempered with submission."

Sukja sighed quietly – Ztar hadn't truly answered the question. "That is a difficult balancing act, my Emperor. You want him to feel that he can resist, but not too much. In the end, he must know he has to submit."

"Exactly."

Sukja had a strong hunch where things were going with the telepath. "But you don't want him to play along; you want the resistance to be genuine."

"For now." Ztar replied with frankness and a nod, confirming Sukja had deduced correctly. A whirlwind of ramifications swirled up. Unspoken desires and secret expectations, manipulation into unwitting sexual roles – little wonder Archangel was a constant emotional rollercoaster. Sukja knew from Ztar himself that the man rarely spoke during sex, preferring little distraction. As an empath and telepath, those sensory inputs provided all he needed to know and he freely used the talent to deepen enjoyment.

Sadly, one-way communication meant bedmates were often left in the dark as to Ztar's intimate plans. The behavior was rooted in control issues, and a conduct Sukja had delicately attempted to remedy over the years without success. Generally, the idiosyncrasy mattered less when a bedmate wasn't around for an extended length of time, but if Archangel was to be a long-term companion, something…_someone_…had to change.

It was the end of a long day and Sukja wondered if he had the energy to deal with something complex and full of potential pitfalls when he was already tired. However, it was his duty and to perform that duty well, it was time to be direct.

"My Emperor, I'm going to say something you may not wish to hear." Sukja paused watching for signs it was a bad idea. Seeing nothing but curiosity, he plunged ahead. "Archangel is still adjusting to his new circumstances. For him to do so, requires time and steadiness. Be consistent in your expectations of _his_ behavior and predictable in _your_ behavior. Vague or complex maneuverings are bewildering at best and infuriating at worst. I beg you, don't manipulate him into certain behaviors – be clear about what you want. Doing otherwise only creates confusion and anger."

Ztar sat in silence. Anger flared. Rarely was Sukja so blunt. Then he thought back over the past 20-some nights. In hindsight, he had to admit Sukja was right. He was shifting sands. Nearly every encounter, he had wanted something slightly different from Archangel, and he had kept those desires to himself. If the pairing was to work, he had to settle down. If he did, then perhaps Archangel would slowly follow suit. Ztar breathed in and out in a deep, long sigh.

"As always, you are right. I want so much from him that I forget transition takes time. He needs me to be steady and consistent, doesn't he?"

Tentative relief washed over Sukja. Perhaps with the Human, the Turzent would finally begin to think beyond his own needs. Of course, the weeks ahead would tell if the new perspective held.

"Yes, my Emperor. That doesn't mean you can't have some variety in your desires, but limit that variety and within it be predictable. Then he'll know what's expected of him. That's how we'll build a foundation for the long-term. In the future, when he's better adjusted, we'll see what else might be possible."

Ztar stood and took his glass to the kitchen having finished the drink. "We still have a problem."

"My Emperor?"

"There is still a very upset Archangel on the other side of that door," Ztar reminded with a nod to the entry of the adjoining chambers.

"Ah, yes. He's very upset?" Sukja questioned.

"Quite."

"Would you like me to attempt to calm him?" Sukja offered, more than willing to take whatever the Human would hurl at him – physically or verbally.

Ztar thought for a moment. "No, Sukja. I'll handle things tonight. If he wants to fight me, I'll allow it. I'll remind him of his obligations, but only later, after the anger is spent. Perhaps it will be good for him to release the rage at me. After all, I'm the cause of it."

Sukja was stunned – he had always been the one to assuage anger and rebellion; only then did Ztar partake in the pleasures nighttime held. It was a first that Ztar offered to absorb the hostility for the sake of a bedmate…another encouraging sign.

"That sounds like a very good approach, my Emperor," he agreed with cautious enthusiasm. "Control of your own emotions will be vital."

"Understood." The man signaled a qualifier was coming with the upturning of a hand. "Sukja, I will still get what I want from him tonight, though – I will not be denied," Ztar said with a surreptitious smile as he strode toward the door leading to Archangel's chambers.

'Two strides forward, one back,' Sukja sighed, but he'd take progress where he could.

As the door slid closed behind the monarch, Sukja contemplated. He recalled the semantics in one of Ztar's statements. The man had not said, '_I_ need to be steady and consistent, don't _I_?' Ztar phrased it, "_He_ needs me to be steady and consistent, doesn't _he_." That one, short sentence may have represented a major step forward in the Emperor's personal growth. Not once in all of Sukja's years of service had Ztar said anything like that about a bedmate.

Sukja walked to the kitchen area to rinse Ztar's glass and put the bottle of Dison in the liquor compartment. Housekeeping would normally do such mundane tasks, but he didn't mind straightening up. He then walked to the sectioned off bed area to turn back the linens. Stepping over to the wardrobe, Sukja grabbed a fresh robe and hung it in the bathroom near the shower. The personal touches he performed for Ztar gave him another kind of satisfaction. To Sukja, those small things strengthen their relationship as much as the counsel he provided in the most intimate area of the Emperor's life.

Ruminations wandered to another positive sign – Ztar's statement the day before Trapia about making sure Archangel was comfortable. That was also uncharacteristically other-centered. Coupled with the newest indicators, perhaps they confirmed the Emperor was indeed changing…that he may be moving beyond selfish gratification and toward greater emotional maturity. Was it possible Archangel would be the person to finally motivate the man to take that next step?

The ruler of the Turzent Empire was many things – intelligent, cunning, driven; demanding and sometimes cruel, yet honorable – but he was significantly younger than his years when it came to personal relationships. He lacked compassion and true empathy, likely the result of his abusive upbringing coupled with the harsh lessons life had taught him. It was Ztar's greatest fault. While it did not translate to the business end of his life, it wreaked havoc on intimate side. And, it was what Sukja had dedicated himself to helping Ztar overcome. The goal was no secret between them – impossible to keep motives hidden from the powerful telepath. Ztar wanted Sukja's guidance, seeking it often and unashamedly.

That was another trait Sukja admired in the man. He was not arrogant. Ztar was proud of his accomplishments, and rightfully so, but the man also knew he hadn't done it alone. The dictator accepted that he would not hold onto his empire alone either, and surrounded himself with the very best minds whose loyalty was without question. Ztar's Royal Court was exceptional, in Sukja's humble opinion. It was the strength, dedication, and wisdom of those vital individuals and their staffs that made managing a vast interstellar empire possible.

And so Sukja continued to help the man in the one area of his character that needed the most attention – intimate affairs. It was just that Ztar had a hard time following Sukja's advice. And as much as it pained him to admit, Ztar didn't _need_ to be compassionate or empathic in the bedchamber…he had Sukja to clean up after him.

Sukja freely acknowledged being the man's emotional crutch and conscience in the personal arena. The Ozjaerian was always there to fix Ztar's personal messes. Sukja was the one who figuratively took Ztar by the hand and led him through the often treacherous and unpredictable minefield of his companions' emotional landscape. Ztar didn't have to think too much, just let Sukja lead him. Assuming, of course, he chose to be led. Ztar was strong willed and many times in the past, he simply rid himself of a bedmate that was "too much work."

He sighed as he gave his monarch's chambers one last visual check. And it wasn't as though Sukja hadn't tried to get the Emperor to consider a companion's perspective. Time and again, he'd attempted to wean the man off the crutch, but never succeeded. Often, the Turzent was simply unmotivated to make the effort. The draining demands of ruling an empire translated into Ztar wanting his personal life to be uncomplicated. He wanted satisfying sex, yes; but entanglements? No.

However, the man was growing older and years of rapid territorial expansion were perhaps winding down. No longer was the Turzent Empire too small and weak to defend itself – now it could stand up against all but the most potent enemies. Ztar was perhaps finally looking for something more than sex. Unfortunately, the man had a lot to learn and years of bad habits to break. Simply put, the Emperor needed to finish growing up. And the signs were hinting Ztar had found someone to motivate him to do that. Perhaps in time, Sukja could remove himself as a crutch and Ztar would finally stand on his own to reach his full potential.

Never one to be naïve, the Ozjaerian knew much work lay ahead. However, as Sukja exited the royal bedchambers, he did so with new optimism.

###

Where was Ztar? He couldn't possibility be giving Warren the night off, could he? It was well past when the bastard usually made an appearance. As illogical as it was, it further angered Warren that Ztar would be late.

'As if he cares one iota if he keeps me waiting!' Warren was livid. He enjoyed being livid – it was far better than the shame and humiliation that marked his first weeks of enslavement. There was power in anger. He was ready for the showdown, but his adversary so far dared to be a no-show. Warren strode back and forth, wrath growing exponentially as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly, the door slid open and the object of his hatred stepped inside. Their eyes locked – Warren's dancing with fire and Ztar's calm and collected. Warren didn't wait; he laid into the man immediately, rage negating thoughts of repercussions.

"I'm not being abused by you any more. It stops now!" Warren approached his tormentor, but stayed well outside of arms reach. "Rape is one thing, bastard, but what you do goes way beyond that. I won't be brutalized anymore! Got it? You can go fuck yourself! I'm tired of being your whipping boy! You can take your goddamn Accord and shove it up your royal ass!"

"Apparently you're upset with me, Archangel." Ztar said, putting on a questioning look. He noticed the man only came so close and no closer. Not all fear had fled the Human.

"Upset? You think I'm merely _upset?_" Any thin hold Warren had on blind fury snapped. "No more! I'm done. Done being the sexual punching bag for your depravity! Kill me. Punish Earth. Destroy New York City or whatever you think you need to do – I don't give a shit anymore!"

Rage distorted the perfect visage and presented an odd juxtaposition. Ztar sensed Archangel was on the verge of a physical attack, but caught himself. He watched in fascination as Archangel instead began pacing in a large circle. He was indeed beyond angry, but as yet not violent. The empathic connection was in flames and Ztar actually cringed at the heat. Still, the feel of the emotional maelstrom was also intoxicating and excited Ztar. Archangel crackled with energy, both physical and mental. Ztar empathically and telepathically drank it in.

He edged slowly closer to the pacing Human. "I think you _do_ care about Earth. If you didn't, we wouldn't be talking."

"We're _not_ talking, Ztar. You're listening!" Warren paused his pacing to collect himself. He was so close to being completely consumed by rage, it was frightening. "You are a sadistic rapist whose only concern is fulfilling your own sick desires. You're brutal, self-absorbed, and I won't tolerate the abuse any longer. I'm not a toy or a pet. Not a possession or a piece of property, damn it! I don't _belong_ to you!" He coated the words with acid, spread his wings, and raised fists toward Ztar to reinforce the declaration.

Ztar continued to observe. Part of him felt what might have been remorse. 'Sadistic rapist' stung. Perhaps it was true. Yet imperial bedmates were a tradition going back to the very beginnings of Turzent civilization. Emperors by law could claim anyone as a companion, willing or otherwise. It was his right and he saw nothing wrong with exercising that right.

Archangel was wrong on the other point. He did belong to Ztar. The Accord made him Ztar's legal property. There was no getting around that fact. Archangel had responsibilities under that legal document that must be fulfilled no matter how much the Human detested the obligation. If only he would accept the situation. But Ztar understood his companion was too furious to accept any of that at the moment and would not waste his breath. Anger needed to be released and Ztar would permit it – in fact, he'd encourage it. In the end, though, Ztar would get what he wanted.

"Anything else you feel compelled to say?" Ztar asked, feigning disinterested calmness while with great stealth, telepathically fraying the weak hold the man had on control.

Warren thought he'd blow a gasket. Ztar was so cool and unfazed. Had nothing he said made an impact? The bastard was beyond intolerable! "Get out! Get out of my room, you mother fucking bastard! _Now!_" Warren yelled, his body quaking with fury.

Ztar simply stood as Archangel raged. Another nudge…

Liquid fire pumped in his veins. "You son of a bitch! I said _get out!_" The room collapsed as perceptions narrowed to only his adversary. Warren stepped closer. He'd take down the Emperor if he had to. Despite Ztar's superior strength, he'd find a way. All the pain he'd endured! All the humiliation and shame! Ztar would pay somehow, someway...

"Get – out – of – my – room," Warren warned in a low, menacing snarl. He crouched slightly, snapping his wings to attack position. Anger would no longer be denied. All the brakes came off – Earth's precarious position faded to the background.

"Archangel, you don't want to do that," Ztar warned to make a good show of it as he looked at the Human with new appreciation. Archangel looked every bit the predictor ready to pounce. Crouched, muscles tensed, wings spread, eyes narrowed with dilated pupils. It was an impressive sight.

"Yes, I do!" Warren growled and in one strong beat of the powerful wings and spring of legs, Warren propelled himself into the Emperor with such force that despite Ztar's far greater strength, the Turzent crashed backward into the kitchen counter.

The air expelled from Ztar's lungs with the double-fisted impact against his chest, while the collision with the counter caused sharp pain across the low back of his tough body. He hadn't realized Archangel was _that_ strong! The next thing he knew, a fist caught his chin, snapping his head to the opposite side. Catching Archangel's upper arm, Ztar threw him across the chambers. Archangel slammed into the bathroom wall with a thud and slid to the ground. One of the new pieces of artwork clattered to the floor.

Up in an instant, Archangel launched into the air once again. Ztar barely had time to collect himself and plant feet firmly in preparation. He did, however, have time to employ gentle telepathic disruption of Archangel's thought processes…couldn't make things too ease for the Human.

A split second before reaching his target, Warren suddenly couldn't remember what he wanted to do. 'What the-?' Fists missed their target in his confusion as Ztar dodged. Large, powerful hands quickly locked around Warren's forearms.

'Goddamn telepathy!' Warren knew what Ztar was doing, but knowing what was happening and being able to do something about it were two different things. But damn, he was going to try!

With Archangel still semi-airborne in front of him, flapping wings swirling the air violently around them, Ztar held Archangel's arms in a fierce grip. But just as quick, a knee rammed into Ztar's gut. Ztar had read the move in Archangel's mind, but the action was so quick that he could do nothing to avoid it.

As he kneed Ztar hard, Warren twisted his body to gain a better angle over his opponent and hopefully loosen Ztar's grip. Warren let years of training to take over and guide him without thought. The bastard would have nothing to read.

Having momentarily wrested some control over one arm, an elbow to the throat caused the alien to cough and jerk, further loosing Ztar's grip. A snap of his arms downward and Warren was free. He let himself drop to the floor, and a quick cross-slice to the ankles knocked Ztar's feet out from under him. While Ztar fell sideways one direction, Warren rolled the other. Leaping to his feet before Ztar hit the ground, Warren had his captor where he wanted him.

Ztar was stunned. The Human was a third Ztar's strength at best even accounting for Archangel's mutation-enhanced strength and pumping adrenalin, but Ztar was felled. Archangel's moves were lightening fast; he couldn't respond quickly enough even if he could read them. And he was having a hard time reading Archangel – the fighting took no thought. The sign of a seasoned warrior.

Warren knew he had a tiny window of opportunity before Ztar likely took control of his mind and he wanted that time to count. As the Emperor landed with a grunt on his side, Warren grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him upright with one fist, slammed him back against the cabinets, and landed a blow to Ztar's jaw with the other. That was all the time Warren figured he had and he'd end the fight while winning. 'Damn it, though, that felt so fucking good!'

He stood and moved to the far side of the room, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms to watch Ztar recover. With anger vented, twinges of fear rose that Ztar would do something rash against Earth. He wouldn't panic yet. Somehow, he'd figure out how to avoid serious retribution. Steadying breathing and nerves, he waited.

Ztar rubbed his throbbing jaw as he sat on the floor and watched Archangel turn his back on him and walk away. He had manipulated the physical confrontation, but all hadn't gone quite as Ztar had imagined. Ending up on the floor had not been part of the plan. No one had dared do what the Human had just done since Ztar became what he was – an augmented mutant. If they tried, they usually did not survive to tell.

With Archangel, though, he would follow his attendant's advice, Ztar decided as he rose to his feet, and not react to anger with anger. He would tolerate the violent release if it helped Archangel adjust to the life Ztar envisioned for him. Despite the intentions, controlling his ire at being attacked and bested was going to be a bit of challenge and Ztar nearly shook from the effort to hold it in check.

He studied the man eyeing him carefully from across the chambers. The empathic connection was filled with satisfaction, but with undercurrents of fear. 'Good! Archangel should have fear for his actions.

"You're done then?" Ztar inquired as he straightened his nightwear.

"Unless you want to go another round," Warren replied inserting confidence into his voice to cover growing unease.

"You do realize that I've killed for less than what you just did," Ztar wanted Archangel to clearly understand how tolerant he was about to be.

"I have no doubts." He didn't.

"You also realize that you've violated the Accord that keeps your planet free and unharmed." Ztar wanted Archangel to remember what was at stake.

"I understand that, too." Concern ratcheted higher. Ztar was too calm. That is sometimes worse than someone lashing out. What was he planning?

Ztar picked up on the rising anxiety. He would use it to drive home his point. "Then perhaps _you_ should select the population area that suffers from your outburst," Ztar offered up as if it were a dinner menu choice.

Warren's stomach knotted. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked. Which city on your homeworld feels the power of my military's hand?"

"You wouldn't do that."

Ztar raised his eyebrows in mocked puzzlement. "Why wouldn't I? What value is leverage if one is afraid to use it? You attacked me. I attack Earth. A simple concept outlined in the Accord, which apparently you failed to consider before you acted."

Warren hesitated – how should he react? Was Ztar serious? Would he indeed strike out at a city for Warren's misconduct? Or was Ztar simply toying with him? Then Warren felt a crawling sensation in is brain – Ztar was probing him without attempting to hide it. Panic started to rise.

"Ztar, be reasonable. If you're going to take it out on anyone, it should be me – not a city of innocent people!"

"Since you're hesitant to choose…there is a city I see in your mind that would be appropriate for your transgression. I believe you call it Phoenix. It is hot and fiery, just like you are tonight. Its destruction would be appropriate reparation for viciously attacking your Emperor."

Warren's heart moved to his throat and he swallowed hard. "You wouldn't _do_ that! It's barbaric!" Warren prayed he was right, but rapidly feared the worst. Was the sadistic Emperor so evil as to do as he was threatening?

"I have destroyed more than a city in the past for crimes less than yours," Ztar said in a dire tone, staring Archangel in the eyes. "And what you just did is a crime, punishable by death. Or in this case, by surrogate deaths."

His stomach rolled. Warren felt ill. 'How could I have been so stupid? God, what was I thinking? Was I momentarily insane? Why wouldn't Ztar exact punishment – Earth is nothing to him but a tool to ensure my cooperation. Not using the tool would be illogical.' It was looking very bad. Warren moved away from the wall and toward his hated subjugator. "Ztar, _please_ don't do anything rash. I acted foolishly… I'm _sorry!_"

"Sorry for attacking me or sorry that others will pay?" Ztar took a couple steps toward Archangel. He filled the words with force and his expression with anger.

Everything about Ztar said he was angry, but holding back. Visions of Phoenix in smoking ruins and bodies everywhere drove fear deep. He had to stop that from happening.

"I'm sorry for attacking you. Don't punish anyone else for my actions – that's not right!"

"But that's the agreement you live under, Archangel. Submit or Earth suffers the consequences. Not you. Earth. We made that very clear to you from the start."

"It won't happen again, Ztar. Please don't do this!" Warren's heart was racing. 'My God, what have I _done?_ If Ztar follows through, I couldn't live with it. Stupid! Foolish! This is where your anger and selfish outburst got you, Worthington. A whole city of innocent people in jeopardy. Are you happy now?' Warren could hardly draw a breath as his heart pounded and his chest tightened painfully.

Ztar felt he had pushed the point far enough. Archangel's fear was rapidly escalating to panic. He didn't want to completely undo any positives gained from Archangel's release of anger. He made a show of gathering himself and sighing.

"Very well, Archangel. I will be merciful. However, mercy comes at a price," Ztar replied in measured tones.

Relief flooded over Warren. Then fear of what that price would be followed quickly at relief's heels.

"I will expect much from you in bed tonight and the next several nights." As Ztar had said to Sukja, he would get what he wanted from Archangel one way or the other.

Warren closed his eyes. 'Back to that. Ztar's lust and my body – the price for Earth's safety. God, I don't want this body anymore!'

Ztar heard the last thoughts and a sharp pain shot through his chest at the sentiment, but he shoved it aside. "Do you understand, Archangel?" Ztar softened his voice as he closed the distance between them.

Warren reopened his eyes and Ztar was right in front of him. "Phoenix will not be harmed?"

"No, I will spare your Phoenix."

'Thank you, God!' he praised silently. But in return, Ztar would require much more from him and he dreaded what that might be.

Ztar rubbed his chin again where Archangel punched him and smiled. "You have a mean right hook," he complimented, using terminology straight from Archangel's own mind.

Warren eyed the Emperor trying to determine intent behind the comment, but was uncertain.

"Now we go to bed."

Warren groaned quietly at the command, but obediently disrobed as Ztar did likewise.

Ztar threw the bed covers aside and lay down. "Above me, Archangel," the Emperor instructed.

Warren dutifully straddled Ztar's thighs. The Emperor's arousal was evident.

"You know what to do," Ztar prompted as his hands ran up Archangel's thighs and around to the small of his back, stopping there.

Warren leaned down to kiss the man he'd just punched out. His mind screamed to pull away as their lips touched and fought hard against himself not to. Dread of what his captor would demand sent trembles through him despite efforts to quell them. The wings drew tight to his back instinctively in a protective response.

When Ztar opened his mouth to his kiss, Warren did what was expected, twirling their tongues together. After a bit, Warren started to pull away.

/ _Not yet,_ / the voice in his head commanded.

Warren continued the kiss. Ztar's hand moved slowly up his back to the wing bases, swirling fingers in and through the small axillary feathers to the most sensitive, erogenous spots. More shivers ran though Warren. Again, he tried to leave the kiss and again 'no' popped into his head. Ztar's reciprocating kiss became more urgent, probing deeper into Warren's mouth; it was nearly suffocating. The hands continued to stimulate the wings Warren still held pressed to his body.

/ _Spread your wings,_ / came the next command. It was then that Warren's realized how tightly he'd been holding them. When he did as demanded, Ztar finally released him from the kiss. He could breathe again.

/ _Nuzzle me, but don't make me instruct your every move, Archangel. Pleasure me on your own. _/

'God, it's too much!' Warren's mind went blank as he followed the nuzzle command by kissing Ztar's neck and ear. What was he suppose to do? Making love to a woman, that he knew how to do very well, but with a man? 'What the hell am I supposed to do?'

/ _You'll figure it out,_ / Ztar slipped the words to Archangel.

Reluctantly, Warren decided to pretend Ztar was a former lover – Candy. He hated to taint precious memories of her in any way, but he was at a loss otherwise. Reminding himself how close he'd come to getting Phoenix blown off the face of the Earth, he caressed, licked, fondled, probed, and bit the man he hated more than he thought possible while imagining making love to his lost beloved. 'Ztar will pay one day for this, Candy. I promise you!'

The change in demeanor of Archangel's attentions was pronounced and curiosity caused Ztar to sneak again into the mind above him. The Human had conjured images of another lover. A female. Unacceptable. Detachment – that he'd permit. Imagining Ztar was someone else? It went too far.

/ _There will be no other lovers in this bed, Archangel. You are my bedmate and I am yours. Cease and never repeat this behavior,_ / he projected with sternness that left no doubt as to the seriousness of the offense.

The command burned into Warren's brain. 'Arrogant son of a bitch!' he swore not caring if the telepath heard. 'God, I hate you!' He let abhorrence flow freely. Yet Warren was relieved in a way – Candy was safe and the memories would remain pure. With no other options, Warren decided to mimic Ztar's behavior from previous nights since he couldn't come up with much on his own.

Reading/feeling the repugnance hurt more than Ztar cared to acknowledge. If only Archangel wanted him just a little. To be so loathed by his companion was beginning to trouble him more each encounter. Perhaps it would be best to not be connected to Archangel during sex – to remain oblivious to the odium and just enjoy the physical pleasures. And so he stepped out of Archangel's mind.

Ztar continued to stimulate the wings and when he hit the right spots, he was always rewarded with delightful quivers. The feathered limbs were breathtakingly beautiful; the delicate-looking structure belying their power. Of all the pleasures his companion offered, it was the wings that fascinated Ztar the most. They enthralled and aroused. Archangel's resemblance to the legendary Esserru was almost beyond coincidence, and Ztar had to remind himself occasionally the man was not. However, the fantasy of possessing and having sex with such an exquisite being was a sinfully enchanting indulgence. Touching and probing the expanse of white feathers was all but fantasy made real.

Much to Warren's discomfort, Ztar seemed fixated on his wings. He slowly eased them higher to put them out of reach.

"No, Archangel."

'Damn!' Warren paused and drew in a breath, and lowered the wings back within easy reach. He had never been keen on anyone caressing them. The pinions were too susceptible to damage, for one reason. The wings were extremely sensitive for another. And that was the case with Ztar's attentions, the wings were becoming over-stimulated and discomfort was increasing. Warren ran his hands down and back up Ztar's chest before brushing his lips across the Emperor's as the alien had done many times to him.

Ztar had enough of being beneath Archangel. He was the dominant male and wanted to be on top. It was his nature. He eased Archangel down next to him and rolled onto his companion, being careful not to pin the wings in an awkward position. Once he was straddling Archangel's thighs, he took each wing and pulled it gently out away from Archangel's body to expose as much of the sensual appendages as possible. Then he placed one hand on each wing and moved feathers aside to reach the thin, sensitive membrane beneath. Gliding fingers down the shafts of the feathers, he nearly moaned at the feel of silky smoothness running between his fingers.

It was all Warren could do to let Ztar spread his wings and comb them. He knew what would happen and he didn't want to go there. Just as he predicted, Warren's body responded to the stimulation. 'No!' he told himself firmly, but his body wasn't listening. Over and over, Ztar ran hands and fingers over the wings, through the feathers, and Warren steadily became more aroused. His breathing quickened and the trembles increased. 'Stop it, Worthington!' he ordered himself again.

Ztar was pleased with the response building in Archangel. He leaned down for a kiss, never taking his hands off the wings; stroking, massaging, and titillating the feathered appendages.

"Your turn, Archangel. You need to participate," Ztar ordered.

Hands shaking, he ran them up Ztar's arms; then gripped the muscular upper arm when Ztar hit a particularly erogenous spot on his left wing.

'God, I don't want this!' Warren cried out in his mind. The wings had reached that point where pleasure and pain were intertwined. He fought the urge to knock Ztar's hands away, yet arousal continued escalating against his will and a moan escaped.

"Kiss me," Ztar breathed to his bedmate.

Ztar leaned down to accept a kiss. He took it over quickly, exploring the warm recess, and then left Archangel's mouth, nuzzling across the shoulder to the left wing's leading edge. He loved the feel of the feathers on lips as he kissed across the wing arch. Opening his mouth, he brought teeth down around the edge between the back and the wing peak. The reaction was immediate – Archangel's back arched up, another moan escaping.

Zinging sensations shot straight to his groin as Ztar bit down. 'Oh god, what's he doing?' The alien was driving Warren crazy with tantalizations. No one else had ever focused so much on the feathery limbs, and it was taking him to uncharted territory. The wings hurt from roving, probing fingers, but it felt incredibly good in at the same time. He wanted it to stop, but not. Mind and body whirled from a pain/pleasure collision, and he slipped into a lusty haze.

Ztar dipped into Archangel's mind once again, not to read his thoughts, but to learn exactly what brought the most pleasure. Using that information without mercy, he began skillfully driving Archangel toward orgasm, reveling in that power over his resistant liaison.

Warren tried to pull the wings in, but Ztar prevented it. Pain/pleasure ratcheted up – part of him cried stop, but another said more. When alien fingers dug in, painful bruising blended with sensual bliss. His whole body was igniting and Warren was quickly losing the battle to stop from falling completely under Ztar's sexual control.

To his surprise, Ztar was enjoying the turn of events. It hadn't been the plan, but was too good not to bring to conclusion. The Emperor would bring Archangel to orgasm first and then take his companion immediately after. As Archangel moaned and shuddered beneath him, Ztar's blood ran hot and fast. He plunged into Archangel's mouth, only to quickly released it, nipping and biting down the neck and chest, all the while caressing the most sensitive and pleasurable points between feathers. It delighted the Turzent as the wings quivered beneath his hands. By the gods, he loved that attribute of the Human!

Like a switch had been thrown, searing trails suddenly followed in the wake of fingers as Ztar combed through the wings. The threshold had been fully crossed and pain completely eclipsed pleasure. It was quickly becoming too much as over-stimulated nerves sent fire from wing base to outermost phalanx.

"S-stop," Warren's voice was thick and raspy. He weakly tried to move Ztar's hand away from the right wing without success. "P please!" Even as he said it, Warren wondered why he bothered. Ztar wouldn't back off – never had in the past.

Ztar read the change with disappointment. Perhaps it would not be possible to accomplish what he had wanted, at least not that night. So he refocused on his own gratification. Bringing Archangel so close to climax had nearly moved his own body to orgasm. The need for penetration could be denied no longer, and he adjusted their positions. Taking the man unprepared was painful for his companion, but Ztar's need was urgent.

Warren was grateful when Ztar's hands left his wings. They burned and throbbed, but then Ztar shifted to enter him, meaning more pain to come. He braced himself as the Emperor's large presence swiftly invaded. Gripping the sheets in tight fists, he bit his lower lip to not cry out with the rhythmic pain that was like a stake with each thrust and withdrawal.

As Ztar's shaft sank rapidly into the warm depths, he sighed in bliss. He focused entirely on the euphoric sensations of thrusting in and out of his companion. Empathic awareness telegraphed the Human's pain with each powerful plunge, blending it erotically with the delicious feel of the inside passageway. With each thrust, Archangel involuntarily clenched down on his shaft, and he could barely hold off climax. Ztar wanted to draw out the experience, to put off the inevitable. It took all his considerable willpower and skill to prolong the experience, but it was so worth the effort.

As he took the man, the Emperor gazed down at his captive through lusty eyes. He hadn't allowed the wings to be drawn in and they remained gloriously spread wide across the bed. What the bed could not contain trailed off the sides, feather tips dancing in the air with each thrust. Archangel's features were contorted and eyes squeezed shut, but the face was still incredibly handsome. The sculpted body was taut with tension; hands fisted tightly making the muscles of the arms more defined. 'You are so magnificent,' he told the exotic being without sharing. 'Magnificently mine.'

With that, Ztar let his body do what it so desperately wanted – climax. Intense, blinding ecstasy immobilized his body as he shot seed deeply within his conquest in rapturous release. Once again, Archangel was marked as his – Ztar would never relinquish the Human. No one else would ever touch him, take him. Archangel was Ztar's and Ztar's alone.

Warren blocked the pain as best he could while the Turzent Emperor rode him for what seemed like an eternity. If only Ztar would prepare him just a bit, some of the pain could be avoided, but he wasn't worthy of that in the alien's mind. Why bother? Warren's comfort was inconsequential. Slaves don't have feelings. He was but a tool for sexual gratification. With no choice, Warren endured, clinging to hope with images of when the X-men came to his rescue. All he had to do was survive until that triumphant day.

And then it was over and the Emperor laid down on top of him in exhaustion. With no choice but to lie beneath Ztar, Warren waited for the pain to pass. Once again, he had suffered depredation and Earth was safe. As Ztar lay with his cheek resting on Warren's chest, the tears welled up. Warren would not sob with the Emperor lying there, and he blinked telltale moisture away quickly.

Ztar rose on one elbow and looked into Archangel's crystalline-blue eyes. He saw their pain and felt the despair through the empathic connection, wishing he saw/felt otherwise. Caressing the face tenderly, he admired its perfection of form. Running fingers through the golden hair damp with sweat, intense longing and aching need burned deep within. He could spend hours, days with Archangel in his arms and not get enough.

"My Archangel," was all he could say as he stole one last kiss and left the Human's bed for his own.

Ztar continued to demand that Archangel be a more active partner for the next few nights. He understood it was difficult for the man and he hated it, but Archangel performed as commanded. Ztar felt he had won on all points from their short fight and was pleased. When he considered reparations were paid in full, he allowed Archangel to fall back into a more passive role, relieving a little of the stress the man felt during their nights together. Ztar believed it was best that way, at least for the short-term. Ztar vowed to follow Sukja's other advice – be steady and consistent in his expectations of Archangel. And so Ztar would limit his desires to the two liaisons he found most satisfying.

_###_

_A/N: Despite Warren's second violent outburst, this chapter has a downbeat ending. And it marks the first time Ztar refers to Warren as "My Archangel," in case you missed that. As those of you who've read the old version and the other books know, it becomes a mainstay phrase. Our naughty boy Ztar is making slow progress._

_Hope you enjoyed the insights from Sukja's perspective (that's new, along with other additions) after Ztar leaves for Warren's chambers._

_Thank you for reading C11 and hope to hear from you!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: At the end of this chapter, I've included a Bonus Section that contains part of my response to ArtistofLight's impassioned review of Chapter 11. It's so gratifying when a reader expresses strong reactions to something I've written – it means I've struck a cord._

_If you care to read what I shared with her, it contains a portion of Ztar's psychological profile, which you may find interesting, and a bit of my thought-process behind why Ztar felt he could compare himself to Warren. _

_First, though, we have C12. In this chapter, time is passing more quickly now as we move deeper into the story._

**Chapter 12**

Ztar was furious at the communication from General Gtar-Cro. What, by the gods, was the Commonwealth up to? The unrest and bombings of imperial installation in the Mygra System were now indisputably linked to Commonwealth agents. What game were they playing? The Mygra System had not joined the Empire willingly, but its people had rarely caused any trouble until a few months ago. Now it appeared that the uprising was orchestrated to serve some as yet unknown purpose.

Mygra wasn't strategically important or unusually resource rich. Its two inhabited planets should not hold any particular interest for the Commonwealth. Yet the Commonwealth was there meddling and stirring some of its people to rebellion. The intelligence reports answered the who, but not the why…that puzzling question remained infuriatingly unanswered.

###

While Ztar wrestled with too much goings on, Warren wrestled with too little. He was bored. Bored, lonely, and claustrophobic. Language lessons only went so far. He couldn't focus only on that for hours a day, every day. And while Sukja did provide some company, it was the company of the enemy, not someone with whom he could freely converse. The loss of everyone he knew – of simple friendship – was beginning to weigh heavily. He was totally alone in the enemy's camp.

Confinement was also taking a toll. It'd been how many days since Trapia – 19, 20? 'Couldn't they stop for even a few hours?' The need for flight and exercise gnawed at him constantly. His dreams were of flying; the subconscious trying to provide what reality did not. Warren hated to ask anything of Ztar, but he may need to soon or he'd go crazy. 'Is that part of Ztar's need to control? To make me come begging?' he wondered.

But it was the boredom and monotony that picked away at his sanity most. With little to occupy his mind, he tended to focus on his plight and that only led to despair. There had to be something more than what he was current doing to fill his days, but what? What had the previous occupants of his chambers done to fight the tedium? He decided to tackle that issue first, flight time later.

Querying the computer, he found that the Mi-Lartui offered several ways for her crew to pass their off-time. The crew lounge provided light food, drinks, and game tables. He learned there was a workout room located on deck three. Another option the computer mentioned was called the Vartis court. Warren asked for an explanation of the term and found that the game resembled a complex form of racquetball. None of those pastimes appealed. He didn't feel like mingling with the crew, so that automatically eliminated most areas of the ship. He was back to square one.

He may have to ask for ideas. Perhaps Officer de'Letnoir would have some suggestions. Warren needed more zante and a few others items from stores anyway, so he headed down to de'Letnoir's domain.

"Greetings, Archangel! I was wondering if I'd be seeing you today. Been what, two days since you restocked your shelves?" the officer teased with a warm smile.

"Hello to you, too!" Warren shot back in feigned offense, but then parted with one of his rare smiles. He would not make the effort for anyone else, but de'Letnoir had been nothing but friendly and helpful. "The zantes are running low as are a few other basics, but I came looking for information, as well. Ideas, to be precise."

The officer approached the service counter. "What can I help with?" The alien seemed genuinely eager to be of assistance as he looked up inquisitively at Warren.

"To be honest, I'm bored and looking for suggestions on how to keep busy."

de'Letnoir smirked mischievously. "Boredom is something we simply can't have on the Emperor's personal cruiser. We'd get a bad reputation! For starters, there's the lounge. After day shift, the place really picks up. It's where most of us gather."

The conversation was heading toward the awkward. "I was thinking more about daytime activities. Things I can do in my quarters or from deck two."

de'Letnoir's smile dissolved and he looked more intently at Warren. The officer appeared as if he wanted to say one thing, but then rethought and decided on another response. "I understand. You've been instructed on how to use the computer?"

Warren nodded. "I figured it out, but you can only sit in front of that so long."

"Indeed." de'Letnoir paused in contemplation, long fingers spinning a small, rectangular object on the countertop that Warren didn't recognize. "Deck two is limited. Haven't been up there myself, but I know there's nothing as far as recreational opportunities. I keep coming back to the computer as your only option from that level."

Again, de'Letnoir looked like he wanted to ask a question, but was hesitant. Likely, it had to do with the restriction to deck two, Warren guessed. That self-imposed limitation Warren did not see himself lifting anytime soon. He grew uncomfortable even thinking about mingling with the crew. As cowardly as it may be, Warren wasn't going to put himself through any additional stress that wasn't absolutely necessary.

The procurement officer sighed. "Other than what you can do on the computer, I'm afraid I've failed you." He actually seemed saddened. "But you can always come down here and keep me company. I play a mean game of sonji-mir." The officer continued at Warren's raised eyebrows. "It's a table game. I've got it in the back. I could teach you!" de'Letnoir perked up at the idea.

Warren contemplated the invitation. It would be a good distraction and he did like de'Letnoir. 'Perhaps I should allow myself this one connection – just until I'm rescued,' he considered. "Is it a good idea? You're on duty…"

"My ultimate duty is to the Emperor and what he desires. I don't think my superior officer could find fault in my helping his companion avoid boredom. It would please Emperor Ztar, I'm sure of it, as long as I don't neglect my duties."

There was that word again – companion. The word had taken on a pejorative meaning that was humiliating each time Warren heard it. But Officer de'Letnoir said it without any intent to insult or demean, as if it were just another title, like ensign. Maybe Warren's role was nothing of consequence or unusual to Mi-Lartui's crew, but they weren't the ones forced into the Emperor's bed.

Warren swallowed back his thoughts and rising emotions. He didn't want de'Letnoir to know how much what he'd said had stung. "I'd like to learn then."

"Alright! Today, though, got a full docket. Let's plan on tomorrow for your first sonji-mir lesson. Say 12.0?"

"I'll be here," Warren agreed. At last, something to look forward to.

"In the meantime, you can read about the game on the computer and perhaps learn the basic rules," the officer suggested and Warren nodded. He'd do exactly that.

Zante and other supplies in hand, Warren made his way back to his chambers feeling good about the decision. He needed another challenge and was glad he spoke to de'Letnoir. Yet another tool in his arsenal to survive until his teammates came.

Putting away the food supplies, Warren suddenly realized he couldn't quite remember how many days had passed since he was taken from Earth. Was it 28, 29, 30? He could check easy enough, but really, what did it matter? However long it was, it felt like eternity in hell.

Checking in on himself, Warren also recognized that the anger that lead him to rip his chambers apart and punch out Ztar had eased. It was still there, but no longer white hot. 'Burned itself out? So soon?' he wondered with worry. He had liked the anger, but now it felt like too much effort. Where had it gotten him?

'Time to get off wild rollercoaster of emotions?' he asked himself. Warren didn't know. Even making a decision to step off the emotional thrill ride didn't mean he could actually do it. What he felt, he felt. Suppression doesn't stop the emotions, only pushes them aside.

The goal was to survive somewhat intact until rescue came, but with each passing day, the ship likely traveled farther and farther from Earth, making rescue more difficult. 'Don't give up. The X-men will find a way – they always do.'

Yet it was becoming harder each day to hold to that belief.

###

His fortieth ship-day found Warren watching the star streaks from the imperial observation lounge. The passage of time remained dull and protracted. As his grasp of the Turzent language grew, he no longer spent hours on lessons. Playing sonji-mir with Officer de'Letnoir was another way to idle away an hour or two, but that still left many hours unfilled. It was very possible that what Ztar's nightly attentions failed to do, boredom would – drive Warren crazy. The lack of mental stimulation added to the confinement was actually physically painful.

Sitting on the window bench, knees tucked under him, and facing the stars, he let the emptiness of space seep into him. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine flying through space, around the stars and planets, the universe stretching endlessly before him. Riding the solar winds in his mind, he rushed past moons and asteroids and comets in silent flight. Wings unconsciously spread wider in response to imagined currents.

He opened his eyes and stared out at the white star trails, placing a hand on the window. If only he _could_ fly through the stars. Aching need grew stronger and more insistent every day and imagination only went so far. Nearly a month without so much as a few strong wing beats, and desperate need had taken hold. He was ready to scream. So closed in! Warren needed to get into the air; it was not an option.

Strike that – he needed _so_ much more. He needed _freedom_. Freedom from all the memories of the past – God, how long? – five weeks? He needed freedom from the long hours each night with Ztar and the dispassionate handling of him by Sukja. Freedom from everything he had yet to endure. Freedom from the crushing shame of what he'd degraded to.

Resting his forehead against the window, he allowed himself slip into despair. It was the quiet times when the price he was paying was too much for a burden forced upon him by others who looked at him as a bargaining chip or a prize to be won. A pretty body to be bartered away. Who cared about one mutant…one Human. A planet saved at such a small price. Sweet deal!

Sweet deal for everyone else – hell for him.

Memories drifted to home, friends, Worthington Industries, his charitable foundation – so many things he missed. Even the endless mundane business meetings were appealing after being taken away. 'What I wouldn't give to be in one of those right now instead of here!' He sighed. 'The old saying is so true – you don't really appreciate what you have until it's gone.'

A wave of loss swept over him as he desperately tried to keep belief in rescue alive. But he lost the battle against the painful yearning for home and freedom. Tears came against his will only to infuriate. What good did they do? Nothing was changed by them. They didn't wash away the pain. Meaningless! They didn't help him cope. He wiped at them in disgust, but they continued to flow.

Ztar was responsible for the misery. Ztar – the man who coveted Warren only for his body. Ztar, the alien who didn't give one iota about the person within that body. Ztar. The hated tormentor and enslaver that Warren couldn't touch without risking everything he missed so fiercely. The inner conflict tore at Warren – painfully, ever hour of every day and every night as he let Ztar have his body.

Suddenly, the weight he carried for Earth's safety was too great and Warren struggled to draw breath. More tears. He shuddered. 'Pull it together, flyboy. All you have to do is cope a while longer. Long enough for them to figure out how to get you out of this nightmare. Just a while longer…'

He blinked at the tears he didn't bother wiping away, looked out into the vast blackness of space, and grabbed onto the one coping mechanism that worked best. Detachment.

A little disconcerting how often he was using it. Would it eventually lead to a permanent break from himself? He'd heard of that happening…something called depersonalization disorder. A defensive technique the mind used to escape from things it couldn't cope with. He'd have to be watchful; use it only when necessary. Like in bed.

It was a particularly odd sensation when Warren detached while Ztar did with his body as he pleased. Like observing from the outside, but not wholly. The Emperor's mental monitoring wouldn't let Warren escape completely during sex – Ztar insisted he remain responsive. Complete disassociation did not serve Ztar's pleasure.

But detachment was submissive and Warren was angry at himself for using it. Yet it seemed the least painful alternative, physically and mentally. What he really wanted to do, what every fiber of his being wanted to do, was fight back and kill his tormentor. He wanted so desperately to bring the nightmare to an end. But Earth…

So he was back to detachment as the best option, maybe his only option, that would help him hold on to a shred of sanity. His breath caught and he felt the tears restart.

'Calm yourself!' he ordered.

Focusing on breathing, slowing it, steadying the rhythm, he reached down to a calmness somewhere deep within his psyche. Tears halted and pain-filled mental ramblings were buried. His skill at repressing the worst of the feelings and memories was reaching expert level. Avoidance and distraction worked on what was left.

Rising from the window bench, he decided he'd swallow what little was left of his pride and ask for another side trip. He needed some flight time – his other link to sanity. As soon as he returned to his chambers, he checked the bathroom. 'Damn it, that Dorraj slipped in again!' The room was spotless. Knowing the housekeeper watched him was a thorn in the side.

###

Sukja was heading back to his chambers when he caught sight of Archangel in the observation room through its open door. He came to a halt. The Human sat facing out and was very still. What was going through his mind? Sukja had felt the last several days were not good ones for the man. Malaise emanated from lonely figure that Sukja could feel even without being an empath.

As he watched quietly, Archangel's wings stretched outward as if catching the wind. A few moments later, he saw the hand on the window and Archangel's head come to rest against the clear barrier. He suspected what Archangel was thinking and it tore at Sukja's heart.

'This being of flight does not belong on a star ship. He belongs in the open sky.' Sukja realized with new clarity that confinement would be the biggest hurdle in keeping Archangel intact emotionally. Perhaps if they could fill that need, everything else would be less difficult. The Mi-Lartui needed to stop more often than either he or Ztar had originally believed. He would talk with Ztar about the situation Sukja decided as he continued down the hall.

###

Later that day, Warren asked where Mi-Lartui was going next. Sukja explained they were bound for one of the outer systems. A voluntary addition to the Empire a few years back that Ztar felt required a personal visit.

"Normally, this isn't something Ztar does. He has representatives to handle feel-good visits, but Ztar is concerned about something, though he hasn't said what that is. And so we're off to the edge of imperial space."

Warren's curiosity was mildly piqued, but he didn't care enough to pursue the topic. Instead, he asked about a side trip. Sukja promised he'd take the request to the Emperor, but also told Warren that he needed to do likewise – it wasn't Sukja's job. Future requests would need to come from Warren alone.

###

Ztar knew something was up in the Raisil System, he just didn't know what it was. Not only had military intelligence recently found evidence of Commonwealth ties to some in the Raisil government, but there was the matter of the advancement in FTL propulsion Raisilian scientists were perfecting – thereason Ztar had acquired the system a few years ago when the research was in its infancy, but showed great promise.

Yes, a personal visit was in order. Nothing like some subtle telepathic probing to learn the truth. Very few outside his inner circle knew the true extent of his abilities. Even if the Raisilian's attempted to shield their people or keep those with sensitive information away from Ztar, he would find a way.

One tactic was to bring certain individuals aboard the Mi-Lartui. While the ship's psychic dampeners would block any possible Raisilian telepaths, the dampeners were designed not to block Ztar's specific telepathic signature. He was free to probe without interference.

'This jaunt could prove enlightening indeed.'

###

Ztar looked down at his Archangel. Another fulfilling interlude with the heavenly being. Even after 40-plus days, he still couldn't believe he possessed something so magnificent. Wondrous beauty, determined spirit, durable body, keen intellect – all in a single package. Ztar had never been more fulfilled in bed – all his fantasies could be realized at long last.

He had induced sleep in the Human once the sex was over while his body performed its healing magic. Ztar had not been gentle. The tensions concerning the Raisilian System and other imperial issues had built up and spilled over into the bedchamber. 'But I didn't lose control,' Ztar congratulated himself. He hadn't lost control since Trapia.

Archangel had been surprisingly outspoken. He had begun to worry about the despair Archangel seemed to be falling into, but the show of assertiveness bordering on defiance alleviated some of Ztar's concerns. In hindsight, it impressed and pleased the Emperor that Archangel still had fight in him; though while it was happening, Ztar had grown perturbed at the verbal protests. Most bedmates would have been quite submission after several weeks, if they had survived that long, allowing Ztar to do with them as he pleased without resistance or objection. But Archangel had a spirit that wouldn't be beaten down – it was one of things so appealing about the man.

That night, Archangel's approach had been slightly different. Not so much resistance, but an attempt to deflect Ztar from what was obviously most physically uncomfortable. However, after several unsuccessful attempts to redirect Ztar's more aggressive moves, Archangel had spoken up between clenched teeth.

"Stop it," Archangel had demanded in a voice laced with anger and pain, pushing at Ztar's arm when he had once again clutched a wing.

"I will do as I please!" Ztar had answered with heavy breaths, looking down into the blue eyes that reflected the discomfort he was inflicting not intentionally, but as a by-product of satisfying sexual need. He wanted Archangel roughly and did not want to be distracted. Rough sex was one of the two encounters Ztar had decided upon after Sukja said he needed to be more limited and predictable.

"Just…not so much like _this!_" Archangel implored, wrapping his hand around the Emperor's upper arm to push it away from the wing.

"Let go of me," Ztar warned in an ominous voice. He backed it up with a mental jab. He had not been in the mood to be refused.

Archangel jerked and released the arm. "Bullies are all the same – you're at your finest when the victim can't fight back!" Archangel nearly spat at Ztar, his eyes blazing.

/ _Bullies…_ / Ztar pulled the meaning from Archangel's mind. / _That I am, Archangel. This bully you will endure for the sake of your planet. Now let me do what I desire without protest,_ / Ztar commanded telepathically, and he once again explored the delicate wings. He loved their feel, their scent; the tremors his touch sent through Archangel's body.

"Damn it, Ztar, back off! You're hurting me and I'm tired of it!" Archangel knocked Ztar's hand away with force.

Ztar's irritation level had risen sharply at that. Not only had Archangel struck him, but he was disrupting what had been delicious enjoyment. "You will do as I wish. You have no rights here, no power from which to negotiate terms of treatment. I own you – your body, your mind, your very existence. Tired of it or not, you will do as I command," he knew the words were cutting, but he'd hoped it would end the rebellion quickly.

"No," Archangel had rebutted in a near whisper. "You can't own me – it's not legal…or moral!"

Ztar looked inquisitively at the Human. "It most assuredly is legal as the Accord attests and it is also moral. Owning you is my right as Emperor. That is a right and tradition nearly as old as my people. I chose you and you are mine. Your sole purpose is to offer yourself to me in any manner I desire." He narrowed his eyes at the man. "I don't need to remind you of the price of defiance."

Ztar stared into Archangel's face as the Human closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and seemed to physically shrink at the summation. The empathic connection filled with anguish and hate. Then the blue eyes shot open for one final declaration.

"It's still wrong – I don't care how you try to justify it."

Ztar was equally firm in his belief. "You're not on Earth anymore, Archangel. You're part of my Empire now and will live by _our_ laws and _our_ morality. Your ideas of right and wrong are meaningless here and need to adjust accordingly," Ztar said with a sigh. Why was he having to explain himself, especially to a bedmate, he'd wondered. Not only was Ztar not in the mood to expound to Archangel his legal status, but it was something Sukja should have dealt with long ago. "Enough talk. Submit as required by the Accord."

Archangel gave up, the empathic link echoing defeat. 'Good!' Ztar didn't want arguing; he wanted submission…no talking, mild resistance at best – that was his expectation of Archangel for that encounter. In return, Ztar had told himself he would do everything he could to avoid losing control. And so when Ztar found himself on the verge of doing so, he dipped into that peaceful place in Archangel's mind just enough to take the edge off. His restraint had an unexpected benefit. Ztar had found he liked the sensation of being on the _verge_ – it was dangerous and exciting.

Ztar continued to gaze at the sleeping Human in contemplation. Earlier in the evening, Archangel had asked for another flying opportunity, but Ztar hadn't answered at the time. Now, though, having quenched sexual thirst, he felt generous. Immediately after the Raisil visit, they would go directly to the nearest Earth-like planet, and he'd watch his beautiful possession enjoy its transient freedom.

Then the Turzent gently kissed his sleeping companion and left.

###

When Warren woke, it was still nighttime on the Mi-Lartui. All physical injury from Ztar's visit had long passed, but the emotional pain was still raw. The alien's words had cut deep, but he didn't want to think about it in the wee morning hours. And he hadn't the energy to get up, so decided to try to get more sleep, not bothering to move to the window seat as he would typically do.

Almost immediately, thoughts got tangled up with Ztar. A feeble attempt to think of more pleasurable things, such as lovemaking with old flames – with his cherished and lost first lover, Candy – failed. Too mentally depleted to fight, he let thinking go where it desired.

His attempt that night to distract and deflect Ztar away from brutality failed. So far nothing worked – not resistance, deflection, or distraction. Then he'd tried the direct approach and protested Ztar's treatment of him and challenged the Emperor's morals. Again, failure. Why had he wasted his breath? Ztar's twisted version of right and wrong would not change. It served him well and justified everything he was doing to Warren. Once it was clear that neither distraction nor challenge would dissuade the alien, Warren had no choice to give up.

Ztar had been aggressive and the bruising was intense when the alien didn't check his strength. Warren's body healed quickly, but that did not stop the pain. He had tried hard to repress any sound, as vocalizations seemed to encourage more of the same, but wasn't always successful. Lying quiet and still while someone brutalizes you is nearly impossible, but he vowed to make the attempt if it minimized the aggression. And when Ztar entered him, it was always without preparation – the rapist couldn't be bothered with such trivialities – and the pain was piercing. It was the worst part and he dreaded it every time.

But there was one positive change, if you could call it that. Warren saw a more consistent pattern to Ztar's bedtime demands. Of late, there was aggressive Ztar and gentler Ztar; gentler being relative, of course. He was learning quickly that aggressive Ztar was not tolerant. He simply wanted Warren to submit and let him do what he wanted. Little was required of Warren during those nights – a little feigned resistance if the alien was in the mood, but other times Warren could almost just lie there and Ztar wouldn't complain. That was good, because detachment was easy and Ztar didn't object.

On the other hand, gentler Ztar wanted more participation. Those nights, Ztar held himself in check and restrained his strength to a certain extent, though never completely. Things were more leisurely and focused on sensuality, if you could ever call a rape sensual. At times, Ztar even attempted to create some pleasurable sensations in Warren, but he did expect Warren to be more actively involved. Detachment was harder, but still possible. Warren knew he could learn to go on autopilot to get through those evenings.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, he sat up. Sleep was not going to return. Stretching wings wide, he gave them a quick ruffle to settle disheveled feathers back into proper position and then let them drop lazily to the bed.

'At least Ztar is more predictable and less chaotic in what he wants,' Warren thought, taking what little good he could find in the situation. Predictability didn't make his situation less painful or easier, but at least Warren knew what was expected of him. That alone lessened the stress.

'Speaking of stress,' Warren rose and looked down at the bed. He had lost a couple more contour feathers over night. He didn't think they pulled out during sex, being quite certain he would have felt that unique sensation. While he wasn't due for a molt for several months, intense stress could trigger it prematurely.

'God, if I have to deal with that, too, right now I _am_ going to go off the deep end!'

###

Before reaching the Raisil System, Ztar, Sukja, Commander Polzjen, and her aide had finalized the invitation list for a diplomatic reception to be held on the Mi-Lartui. Among the planned guests were two individuals with possible ties to the Commonwealth according to military intelligence. For those guests, attendance would not be optional – his staff would ensure that.

The reception would take place in the imperial observation lounge. Sukja was charged with logistics inside the room – food, beverage, décor, room layout, etc. It kept him busy. Despite a full schedule, Sukja continued to have breakfast with Archangel every other day for a couple reasons. First, to keep tabs on his charge, and second, he enjoyed the man's company. The Human was intelligent, curious (almost maddeningly so at times), and he liked many of the same foods as Sukja and was always willing to partake in culinary adventures.

However, on the morning of the event, Sukja had another reason for breakfasting with the Human.

"You said a while back that something about the Raisil System had piqued Ztar's interest. Ever find out what?" The winged man queried between bites of zante, one of the man's favorite breakfast foods.

"The Emperor holds much information to himself," Sukja offered. He didn't share with Archangel that military intelligence was involved in the reception more than usual; therefore, the interest likely had to do with imperial security.

"This system joined the Empire willingly?"

Sukja sighed silently. The Human's curiosity was in overdrive that morning and the questions hadn't stopped from the moment Sukja walked in. Today was not a day for leisurely dining served with interrogation. "That is correct, as is the case with many of our systems. Raisil's former governing body saw the wisdom in joining the Empire. The galaxy is a dangerous place. Our military strength offers a shield small, sovereign systems cannot hope to replicate. As further enticement, we offer those that enter voluntarily greater freedoms than would otherwise be the case. As long as they support the Empire and abide by our laws, those freedoms continue. Ztar is not unreasonable, but if you cross him, beware."

Archangel grumbled something under his breath, too low for the Sukja to understand, but certain it was a sarcastic retort. He let it go. Time was slipping away and much remained to be accomplished before the day's headline event. Standing, he indicated the questions and the meal were over. "One more item, Archangel. You will be attending the reception tonight."

Puzzlement crossed the handsome features. "Say that again…"

"The Emperor requires your presence at the Raisilian reception this evening, beginning at 26.0. I will have clothes sent up. We will meet beforehand to brief you as to your duties. Be dressed and ready no later than 25.5."

Anger and disbelief flared instantly in the blue eyes. "I will not- "

Sukja immediately cut the man off. "You have no choice in the matter, Archangel. Make yourself presentable and be ready when I come," he ordered sternly. Sukja had too much on his docket to spend time in meaningless debate and left before any further protests could be lodged. He'd known the man would be upset and intentionally said nothing until the day of the reception. Given too much time to think, Archangel may have reacted in ways that Sukja did not want. Just one day to fume limited the potential damages.

Ztar was clear about Archangel's role. The Raisilians were physically very much like Turzents. Certain external features and internal differences were present, but nothing dramatic. Raisilians had many of the same aesthetic tastes and sexual attraction preferences as the Emperor's species, as well. Ztar knew Archangel would make a perfect distraction, whether his guests were opposite gender or same gender attracted. When minds are distracted, they are easier prey. Archangel's only duty was to simply be his beautiful, sensual self.

Keeping the winged man's purpose firmly in mind, Sukja and Ztar's tailor had spent considerable time designing Archangel's attire for the reception. What Archangel likely wouldn't notice was the blue was an exact match to his eyes. "It will intensify their color," the tailor confirmed, "and be stunning in contrast to the white wings."

The triangular design of the top would emphasize the Human's lean contours. On Raisil, an inverted unilateral triangle carried several symbolic connotations, including sexuality and virility. Sukja was quite pleased on that note. Amazing what a little cultural research will reveal. Sukja allowed himself to anticipate seeing the companion in his custom-made reception attire. If the tailor's holo depiction was any indicator, the look would be quite effective.

###

To say he was livid at the announcement was an understatement. What was Ztar thinking? To what end was Warren to attend? A pretty embellishment for the evening? Ztar's _date?_ Intolerable! Or was he to be there for other reasons? He didn't even want to venture where some thoughts led.

Warren attempted to divert thinking from the reception by going through a Turzent language lesson, but found it impossible to concentrate. He continued to fume, but as the day worn on, other feelings crept in that were unlike him. Imaginings of the reception began to cause queasiness. Under normal circumstances, a political reception would be a cakewalk, but the situation was far from normal. He was the Emperor's whore and believed everyone would know it.

The day was interminable.

Warren jumped at the early evening door chime. The outfit had arrived. Warren laid the garments out on the window seat. Not fancy, a tailored top with short sleeves that came to points just above the elbows. The pants were a simple slack that obviously would also fit close to the body. Most of the outfit was in a soft tan, but the front of the top had a blue triangular insert, the top leg running from shoulder to shoulder, and the third point ending at his waist. Blue also ran past the shoulders and down the front of half of the sleeves.

'Hate it!' Warren thought in disgust and turned his back on the garb.

He strode over to the wardrobe and opened it to examine himself in the full-length mirror attached to the inside of the door. Forty-five ship days and he looked like hell. His hair needed a cut for one. The face looking back at him was drawn and tired. Spreading the wings, he took in the damage. The feathers were a mess, splits everywhere and several smaller ones were broken. He'd have to do a thorough preening soon or flight would be hampered, assuming the ship would stop again so he _could_ fly. A pang of need hit hard with the thought.

'You need to ask again,' he reminded himself. 'Maybe then we'll stop. But it does no good if you don't take care of the feathers that allow you to fly.'

So before the reception, Warren preened for his own sake. Sitting cross-legged on the window seat, fingers worked feathers automatically after so many years of performing the task, allowing his mind to wander. 'Sometimes I hate you,' he told the wing splayed around to the front, bringing feathers into easy reach. 'Another fine mess you've gotten us into. If not for you, Ztar probably wouldn't have given me a second look.'

A quick yank on a broken contour feather and with a sharp zing that traced all the way to his spine, the quill released its grip on nerve and tissue. He hated pulling even the smaller feathers. The amount of resulting pain wasn't the issue; it was the nerve-zapping feel of it. From the shabby look of the wings, he'd be giving the hypersensitive nerves a lot to complain about that day. "Shit."

'Maybe you deserve this, my feathery limbs. Screwed up my life yet again!' he spat, jerking out another broken, slightly larger pinion. "Ow!" The wing shuddered as the feather was ripped from nerve ending. "Should pull all of you out – then the bastard would lose interest. Just an ugly, plucked bird he wouldn't even want to look at."

He could never do that; at least he didn't believe he could. Besides, it would take a while, but the feathers would come back in – Ztar could just wait it out. Warren spread the wing wider to get a better look at some of the areas. "I do hate you sometimes, you know that, right?" He reached to run fingers along the trailing edge of the appendage. "But I love you, too. Love what you give me." He chuckled. "Stereotypical love/hate relationship – that's what we've got here, my friends. More than love. _Need_ to fly. _Must_ fly." He tenderly brushed the feathers again. "You give me that and I love you for it."

Suddenly, he jerked. "Talking to yourself? Detaching a part of your anatomy as separate from the rest of you? God, Worthington, you _are_ losing it!"

Shaking off the ruminations, he finished the preening chore and went on to dutifully make the rest of himself presentable for whatever humiliations were to come that night.

###

_A/N: Thoughts? Reactions? How did the preening scene come across? Quite curious on that one, since it's mostly new._

_Thank you, again, AoL, and all my readers and reviewers, for your wonderful feedback and ongoing support! _

_BONUS:_

_Here is the Bonus Section I mentioned at the top of the chapter that gives you an insider's peek at some of Ztar's psychological profile as shared with ArtistofLight. Hope you find it interesting. _

"Here's the reason I felt the scene was needed. Psychologically, a person simply cannot have empathy without feeling a connection to a person or to people in general – that is the very basis of empathy. Despite being an empath, Ztar lacks substantive empathy/compassion for a number of reasons and, as we all know, has been seeing Warren as an object and not a person. I felt it important to mark the point at which Ztar starts to identify with Warren even if his interpretation of that rising feeling is "warped." But it's a beginning and someone learning to empathize needs to start somewhere.

I felt that Ztar's odd opinion that he and Warren are similar would be in keeping with his character at this point in the story. As a self-professed 'selfish bastard,' to me it was logical that Ztar would first see reflections of himself in Warren. Maybe one way to look at it is that Ztar's psyche is grasping at straws to make some sort of connection/any connection, no matter how flimsy.

In my mind, Ztar suffers from a moderate form of Reactive Attachment Disorder, or RAD as the mental health community calls it. Objectifying people is exactly what RAD-affected individuals do – people are tools to an end. I have relatives who adopted a child suffering from severe RAD and used some of what I learned through them as the basis for Ztar. Sadly, that child was quite violent and is no longer with them after my relatives spent eight years trying to repair the damage. Other complications came into play, but in the end, the girl could not be "saved" – the RAD was too severe.

In Ztar's case, the basis of his RAD came from an abusive childhood and it was then exacerbated by the betrayal of the only people he'd ever trusted (the military) and the side affects of his augmentation."


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: As it's said, life happens. Would have had this chapter up sooner, but a family emergency sent me on a 12-hour drive to my sister's place. She injured her back on July 4 and was unable to care for herself. Long story short, she'll be fine in a few weeks. Our parents arrived to relieve me so I'm back home, got life back in order, and now I'm ready to post the next segment. _

_Ah, the big shindig…let's see how things unfold. For those of you who read the previous version, the evening's event is a bit more detailed, as just about everything else in the story. Hope you enjoy the party and what follows after. See you at the end of the chapter._

**Chapter 13**

Precisely at 25.5, Sukja arrived. The Human was breathtaking, just as he had hoped. The blue eyes were like radiant gems. The wings looked even more intensely white against the crystalline blue of the shirt. The fit of the clothes was impeccable, emphasizing the lithe frame, but without being too tight…best to leave some things to the imagination – more seductive that way. Sukja was very happy knowing his Emperor would be. 'Down to business.'

Warren spoke first. "I can't do this."

Sukja was unaffected. "That's why we're meeting – to tell you what to expect so you can perform your duty properly. Reservations about attending need to be set aside. You have a job to do tonight for your Emperor. Failure of duty is not an option." Sukja hated to be harsh, but there must be no misunderstandings.

Warren did not bother responding. Turning his back to the alien, he walked to the window seat and plunked down heavily with a frown. His latest duty was not sitting well already.

"The purpose of your attendance is distraction. You are to engage the Raisilian dignitaries in social conversation regarding their culture or other non-substantive topics. No sensitive subjects like politics. You can ask all the questions you wish within those parameters. That should come easy to you." Sukja smiled slightly. "And you will pass no judgment on their manners, customs, or opinions. You will engage in conversation with whoever approaches to speak with you. You will not initiate conversation, as that is not a right of your position."

Warren cringed internally. The last remark stung.

"You will respond graciously and acceptingly of any overtures by the Raisilians. This includes physical contact." At that, Archangel's eyes grew wide. Sukja quickly added, "Don't be alarmed, Ztar will not tolerate anything unseemly by the dignitaries."

Warren wasn't convinced.

"When Ztar commands, you will obey without pause and without indicating verbally or nonverbally that he has directed your actions. Put simply," Sukja concluded, "you are to ingratiate yourself with the Raisilians. Do you understand what is expected of you?"

"I'm supposed to flirt." Warren said icily.

Sukja's left eyebrow raised. "That sums it up nicely. Now, let me tell you about our guests."

###

The reception had already been underway for an hour when Sukja and Warren entered the imperial lounge. As they planned, Sukja went off one direction while Warren headed straight for Ztar. The more steps Warren took into the lounge, the quieter the room became until it was near silent when he stopped at Ztar's side.

/ _See, my Archangel, how all eyes are on you? You fill them with desire by just walking across the room._ / Ztar telepathically commented without taking his attention from the Raisilian he was conversing with.

Ztar's comment brought color to Warren's cheeks despite himself. He looked down and swallowed hard, wanting to slide through the floor. The debasing comment sunk deep. 'Why would Ztar say that? Is he purposefully trying to make this even more difficult?'

The Emperor was happy with the affect Archangel's embarrassment had on the Raisilians. They often preferred shy beauty, according to the species psychological profile. A quick mental sweep of the room also indicated that several of the dignitaries were more than a little intrigued with Archangel. Two were even mildly aroused. So far, so good.

Warren recognized the two Raisilians standing with Ztar from the images Sukja showed him. The male was Chuon Sae-Re, Raisil's First Liaison to the Empire. Sunda Vou-Lo was the female and served as Second Liaison.

Chuon Sae-Re was speaking to Ztar as Warren approached. He worked to wrap up the topic as Warren joined the threesome. "As I was stating, Emperor, my world supports the Empire's desire to continue its expansion. We feel, as you do, that such action only strengthens our position within the galaxy. But enough of policy, who is our newest guest?"

Ztar smiled. "Liaison Sae-Re, this is Archangel from Earth System. He has just recently joined my staff."

'Interesting way of putting it…' Warren thought bitterly.

"Archangel, I am honored." Sae-Re held out his hand, palm up.

Warren did as Sukja instructed and placed his palm on top of Sae-Re's, holding it there until Sae-Re pulled away. The Raisilian equivalent of a handshake was repeated with Vou-Lo, though she lingered her hand much longer than Sae-Re.

Ztar was pleased when he saw Vou-Lo was having a hard time tearing her eyes away from Archangel.

With formalities dispensed, Vou-Lo turned to Ztar. "Emperor, our apologies. Chuon and I have cornered you into talking policy and business for too long at your flawlessly planned _social_ reception. May I suggest a change to more fitting topics?" Vou-Lo offered with a large smile. "Perhaps Archangel would be kind enough as to tell us about his homeworld. I am interested in learning more about this Earth System."

/ _Occupy her, Archangel, but discuss _their_ world._ /

"Earth is a simple planet, not much to talk about. But Raisil – your world _is_ interesting. Perhaps you could tell me about the ancient custom of Nost-Ru Lai I read about briefly. I understand it goes back to the very beginnings of your culture," Warren redirected.

The liaison took on a distinctly alluring look. "Then let me tell you about our most revered of celebrations!" With that, Vou-Lu took Archangel by the arm and led him away from Ztar and Sae-Re.

'Oh, Sukja is good!' the Emperor thought. 'He prepared Archangel well. That should keep Vou-Lo's mind fully engaged. Wonder, though, if Sukja actually explained what Nost-Ru Lai _is?_' Ztar pondered in amusement.

Ztar gave Vou-Lu and Archangel a couple minutes to become deeply engrossed in their discussion while he continued to entertain the First Liaison. Meanwhile, Ztar kept a light touch on all minds in the room. A wild blend of emotions swirled in the lounge – curiosity, boredom, irritation, nervousness, keen interest, to name a few. What Ztar sought were the emotions connected with fear, specifically fear of discovery.

After Archangel had fully engaged the liaison, Ztar turned part of his mind away from Sae-Re and began a probe of Vou-Lu. No matter how skilled the telepath, sustained probes could be perceived by many, especially when their mind was relatively quiet. But distract someone properly, and Ztar could perform his work without detection.

While Ztar worked, Sae-Re went on about the possibilities of further developing resources in the Raisilian territory, with imperial financial assistance, of course. Ztar was very skilled at splitting his mind in two. A small part kept tabs on the First Liaison and he injected the minimum into that conversation. The majority of his consciousness was several feet across the room with Vou-Lu.

Down through the surface clutter. Past her fascination with her new conversational partner and what she'd like to do with him in bed, through thoughts of maneuvering the reception to her best advantage, deeper still beyond the concerns of the day, the week. He searched for the telltale feelings of intense stress and fear as they usually led him to points of interest.

Just as First Liaison Sae-Re asked about the Emperor's thoughts on his proposal, Ztar found something of interest. He mentally called to his attendant. Sukja stepped up to the First Liaison and inserted himself into the conversation, allowing Ztar the opportunity to slip away unimpeded. Freed from Sae-Re, Ztar delved deeper into Vou-Lu's mind.

A few minutes later when Ztar had finished the probe, he relayed to Archangel that it was time to move on to their next target. Joining Archangel and Vou-Lu in the corner of the lounge, Ztar was able, with some effort, to extricate Archangel from the Second Liaison. The Human looked very relieved at the rescue.

"She's a cougar!" he informed Ztar, none too happy.

Ztar wasn't familiar with the reference, but the images coming from Archangel gave him a good idea. He almost laughed out loud.

"And Sukja should have told me what Nost-Ru Lai was," the man hissed. "Fertility god worship festival?"

The feelings radiating off Archangel weren't entirely without mirth. Despite being engaged in a deep probe, Ztar had noticed the overtly flirtatious Second Liaison trying to hang onto Archangel as he deftly dodged her physical advances without appearing to be doing so. Quite amusing! If Ztar hadn't been occupied, it was a dance he would have much enjoyed watching undistracted.

/ _Our next target is Security Commander Noi-Gi. He is the large Raisilian at the beverage bar. _/

/ _The Raisil side of the Planetary Security equation, correct?_ /

/ _Yes. For those worlds that join the Empire voluntarily, planetary security is a joint function. Jmong Noi-Gi is Raisil's top security officer. Everything of consequence from a security standpoint goes through his office. I want to know what he knows. We will do as we did with Vou-Lu. You have already garnered Noi-Gi's attention. We're in luck that he appreciates both genders, quite enthusiastically according to the intelligence reports. Indulge him for a while, Archangel._ / The mental grimace at the command blended distaste with irritation and humiliation. / _I won't allow anything that exceeds benign limits, Archangel._ /

That got the telepath a sideways glance as they approached the small group that had gathered around Noi-Gi and a Mi-Lartui officer of Ztar's species in obvious dress uniform. Sukja was following Ztar's mental summons and quickly making his way in the same direction from another part of the room.

"My Emperor!" Noi-Gi greeted heartily, almost too much so. "Perhaps something to quench your thirst?" he gestured toward Ztar's staffed bar. A swift telepathic sweep revealed the man already had one too many drinks, but that only aided Ztar's mission.

"It is enough for me to see our good Raisil friends enjoying themselves," Ztar said smoothly.

Sukja immediately jumped in to rectify propriety. "Commander Noi-Gi, please allow me to introduce the newest member of the Emperor's personal staff, Archangel. Archangel, please know Commander Noi-Gi of Raisil Planetary Security."

The Raisil handshake lingered far too long, with Noi-Gi's eyes piercing into Warren's. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Archangel. What manner of personal staff, Attendant Sukja? Archangel isn't taking over some of your duties, is he?"

The man's palm left Warren's and drifted up the forearm. Warren nearly pulled it away, but a mental pressure told him no.

"Archangel's duties are separate from my attendant's," Ztar interceded, giving the man a smirk that fully answered the thinly veiled inquiry. "His duty is to ensure our guests enjoy themselves this evening, and Archangel is quite skilled." The very naughty thoughts running through Noi-Gi's imagination told Ztar the man understood. All was working well. "Your glass is empty Commander!" With a wave of the Emperor's hand, the barkeep refilled all glasses.

Warren felt color rise to his cheeks as ire and indignation reared up. Noi-Gi wasn't the only one who understood the unspoken. He felt Sukja's eyes on him instantly with a look that all too clearly said to keep himself in check.

"Archangel," Sukja injected, with a slight hand gesture to the second Turzent in the group. "You have not been introduced to Captain Yels of the Mi-Lartui. Captain Yels, please know Archangel."

The captain gave Warren a quick nod and he did likewise.

"Now that the gods of formality are sated, perhaps my curiosity can equally be satisfied," Noi-Gi announced, moving in uncomfortably close to lock desirous eyes onto Warren. "I have not seen your species before and no one here has been able or willing to enlighten me. What and where is your homeworld, Archangel?"

The alien's salacious demeanor made Warren's skin crawl. "Earth is at the edge of imperial space, Commander. We have just recently…joined the Empire." Warren cringed internally at the untrue inference of the phrasing he felt required to offer. "Since I'm new to imperial life, I'm a little uncertain as to all that your position entails. Perhaps you could explain?" Under the Emperor's watchful eye, Warren played his role and leaned toward the Raisilian suggestively.

That was all it took. Noi-Gi was all too happy to talk about himself, his challenges, and accomplishments in glowing terms. And so the conversation started with Warren gritting teeth and the others magically melting away as the Raisilian proceeded to entertain himself in an uninhibited display of frottage. Burning with indignation, Warren did as commanded. However, the final straw came as the two leaned on the high bar, bodies touching at far too many points…a roving hand slid up his back and fingers nestled amongst the axillary feathers of a wing underside. Warren jerked and the hand clamped around the wing radius segment. The Commander chuckled in amusement.

/ _Easy, Archangel. I'm nearly done._ / Ztar instantly shot to the Human. / _Keep him happy a few more moments._ /

Hand still wrapped around the wing, Noi-Gi grinned salaciously. "You are quite exceptional, Archangel. Our Emperor is a fortunate man. Are the rumors true? Does he loose interest quickly?"

Warren was at first stunned by the bluntness of the inquiry, but then the wheels began to turn. If there was a chance a non-Human might be the route of escape from Ztar's clutches…maybe a loophole in the Accord…

"What are you suggesting?"

"If you should find yourself without…employment, I offer you a position on _my_ personal staff. The benefits are quite generous." The hand moved down and around, fingers finding and then twirling in the axillary feathers, which always had the same result. As the wing quivered, Noi-Gi's eyes widened in delight, then immediately filled with lust. The lascivious alien leaned even closer and spoke seductively. "Or should you grow tired of our Emperor, comm me and I will send for you immediately. A wise person always has another perch onto which to land."

At that precise moment, Ztar approached with Vo-Lu in tow. "Commander!" Ztar said a little too loudly as he came to a stop. "Liaison Vo-Lu and I were just discussing the satisfactions of a long-term pairing. Wouldn't you agree that when one finds your perfect partner, you should hold fiercely to that?"

The man's eyes lingered just a bit too long before releasing Warren and turning toward the monarch. "True, my Emperor, but also consider that when the passion burns no longer, shouldn't one let go graciously?"

And so the diplomatic dance continued late into the night. The telepath noted the relief in his companion that Noi-Gi and Vo-Lu aside, the remaining "targets" found Archangel an interesting new species, but nothing more. Finally, Ztar, Sukja, and Archangel stood together in the emptied lounge as the last dignitaries were ushered away. Mi-Lartui's crew would see the guests to their shuttles for the short trip back to Raisil.

Sukja spoke first. "The reception appears to have been well received."

"Indeed," Ztar added. "It was a success on _all_ fronts."

Warren remained silent. All he wanted was sleep. It had been a grueling evening of deflecting questions, redirecting conversations, asking all the right questions, and feigning interest. Not to mention enduring the groping hands of an inebriated security official.

"I am retiring for the night, my Emperor. Good night." With a quick bow, Sukja was out the exit.

Ztar turned to Archangel, slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. "You were perfect this evening. You did exactly as required and I was able to accomplish what I needed to do undetected. I continue to be amazed by you." Ztar paused, looking squarely at Archangel. "You are stunning. I knew the Raisilians wouldn't be able to keep their eyes off you."

"One couldn't keep his hands off, either!" Warren pointed out sharply.

"Ah, yes. Noi-Gi. He has quite a reputation in that arena, especially after free drinks!" Ztar chuckled; a deep, resonating laugh.

Warren was taken aback by the outburst. He had not heard Ztar laugh before. Not that he cared one way or the other. Warren's image of Ztar just didn't include laughter.

"I do, when I have reason," Ztar said in response to Archangel's thoughts. Ztar slowly ran his hand through Archangel's golden hair, down his back, and across a wing. The expected shiver ran through the man. Ztar released Archangel gently.

"It's been a long day – sleep well." With that, Ztar left Archangel standing in the empty room.

Warren was shocked. 'Thought for sure he was going to insist on a victory romp.' With great relief, he walked alone to his chambers.

###

Ztar was concerned. He found the evidence of illicit connections. What he uncovered confirmed military intelligence reports linking some high-ranking Raisil officials to the Commonwealth, so that came as no surprise. Not unheard of and could be dealt with. No, what concerned Ztar was the motive. It wasn't so much that the Raisilians had a problem with the Empire; it was what the Raisilians suspected of the Commonwealth, and those suspicions were causing them to make contingency plans.

Apparently, some top-level officials believed the Commonwealth may make a pre emptive strike against the Empire. Some Raisilians feared the Empire, or at least their part of it, would fall if war broke out, and they wanted to hedge their bets. Thus, overtures to that regime were fostered.

Of grave concern to the Emperor was Raisil's development of what promised to be a significant improvement to FTL propulsion, which if successful, would mean faster, more powerful ships that consumed less energy. That developing technology would be a tremendous bargaining chip for the Raisilians and could buy many alliances in Commonwealth hierarchy. In the minds of the reception guests, Ztar found no evidence that any FTL research had been slipped to the local Commonwealth operatives, at least not that the dignitaries knew about, yet that could change at any time.

Ztar began laying out the sonji-mir pieces in his mind. He placed all the unusual Commonwealth activity over the past year and added their recent movements near the Zramynian System and provoking of civil unrest. Other rumblings about increased military spending, the directions Commonwealth expansion had taken of late, changes in the mood and makeup of their umbrella government, reports that their military was raising cautionary flags about the growing strength of the Turzent Empire, and more he set on the imaginary game board.

Then he plied the pieces. Many moves resulted in nothing beyond the usual Commonwealth/Empire power dance, yet others yielded far more foreboding consequences. Many possible scenarios could be played out given the evidence. Of immediate worry was the prospect of losing the FTL advancement to the Commonwealth. That possibility was simply unacceptable. Couple that with Raisilian suspicions that the Commonwealth may be plotting a coup and the future was suddenly much more uncertain.

Yes, Ztar was very concerned.

The following morning, he issued several directives to military intelligence and the security force on the planet. Among those orders included a focus by MI on obtaining evidence either supporting or dispelling the notion of the Commonwealth preparing for a first strike. Military presence on Raisil was to further tighten security around the FTL development team and facility without tipping off the Raisilians. Additional resources were delegated to heightened surveillance of key Commonwealth officials, both civilian and military. With those and other pieces in place, all Ztar could do was await the reports.

###

A glance out the window told Warren they were no longer in orbit around Raisil.

"Where to next?" he asked the room, rising out of the window seat turned bed. He would always refuse to sleep by himself in the bed where Ztar did as he pleased. Looking down, he spied another dropped feather and grimaced. He was either going into a molt or losing feathers from stress. Neither was good.

It was not a 'breakfast with Sukja' morning, so he lazily eased into the day. He'd wakened early. Given the long day yesterday, Warren would have been preferred sleeping in, but that didn't happen. Stretching wings and arms, a pang of claustrophobia hit. The room was getting too small and his wings and body ached with the need for activity. The situation was desperate – he needed the open sky or he was going to lose it.

'God, I _hate_ being trapped in this tin can!'

He decided to bite the proverbial bullet and ask Ztar again to stop somewhere. 'It's the least the bastard can do,' he snipped, then focused on less agitating thoughts and his morning routine – grooming, breakfast, and going through an advanced language lesson. Warren was quite proud of his progress on the language front. The tutorial agreed with him, too. Then again, it was probably programmed to tell everyone they were doing well, but sometimes a little self-deception is okay. The tutorial also informed him that when he was ready, the translators embedded in his ears could be turned off and on using a remote available from the ship's communication staff.

After a couple hours, boredom set in and Warren toyed with leaving deck two and exploring the other areas open to his security clearance. Thinking it through and remembering how he felt on the tour with Sukja, he decided against it. 'Still not ready," he told himself gently, and that was okay.

It was nearly midday when his door chimed. Expecting Sukja, he was quite surprised to see Ztar. Why hadn't he used the private entrance?

"I hope you're well rested after last night," Ztar said as he strode inside.

"I guess," Warren answered not entirely truthfully. Irritation flared quickly. 'What's the bastard want in the middle of the day?'

"Good! Then you'll be up for an excursion. In a few minutes, we will be in orbit around a'Etyrna. It's a small, recreational planet in the Raisil system. We will spend the afternoon on an island. I think you will find its skies inviting. This is your reward for last night's performance."

Warren was surprised – he'd thought the controlling alien had chosen to ignore his earlier request. 'Decided to give your pet some exercise after all?' he asked bitterly but silently. Then he pulled the feelings in tight, knowing the telepathic empath was likely reading him. 'Watch yourself, Worthington, or you could end up sabotaging yourself. Why Ztar is being indulgent doesn't matter – you're going to get much needed air time.' Still, he had mixed feelings…the Trapia outing nearly didn't end well.

Touching Archangel's mind at the odd mix of empathic signals, Ztar was direct. "I will not repeat what nearly happened after Trapia." A glance out the windows revealed the ship was coming into orbit. "The shuttle is prepped and waiting. I will return shortly. Be ready." And he exited through the front door.

Warren wasn't sure about Ztar's upcoming behavior, but he refused to let that dampen excitement. Ztar would not take that from him. He was going to be airborne soon and that's all that mattered.

As Ztar walked down the corridor, he strengthened the empathic connection. The feelings of relief and anticipation were intense. Realization was setting in that Archangel's need for flight was both psychologically and physically vital for the mutant. The longing flowed through every fiber of Archangel's being. Sukja was right; they'd need to stop more often for the sake of Archangel's mental health. Ztar would instruct Captain Yels accordingly.

###

To say that the island called Eriale was beautiful failed it utterly. Eriale was breathtaking. Warren was mesmerized as the shuttle circled the isle once for his benefit before landing. A single, perfect cone-shaped volcano rose up its center to an amazing height, its summit adorned with a glistening cap of snow. The ocean in which it rested was a magnificent emerald green. Golden-red beaches rung the island and shimmered in the sunlight. Flora of every conceivable size and color blanketed the interior.

Warren saw no buildings or other structures to mar the pristine beauty. 'Wonder who owns this?' his business side pondered. 'Talk about an idyllic get-away for the wealthy.'

"Eriale is one of my private retreats," Ztar announced suddenly. "It was a gift to me from the Raisil people when they entered into the Empire."

"Pays to be you!" Warren quipped with a sideways glance in Ztar's direction.

The shuttle settled on the landing pad and the hatch lowered. No need for armed guards here to fend off predators, Warren guessed. He and Ztar stood.

"Same rules as before. Now go!" was all Ztar said. Warren had no trouble obeying that command.

It was immediately apparent that a'Etyrna's gravity was stronger than Earth's – there was more tug as he sprang against it. The atmosphere was also denser, like a sultry summer day, causing him to work harder to get lift, but he'd take those small nuisances. He was in the sky once again!

Warren stretched out his senses, expanding awareness mentally and physically as he rose higher. He wanted to savor every sensation of flight and freedom. Like someone dying from thirst, he was getting sweet, precious water. His soul drank it in ravenously. Joy washed over him like pounding waves. He trembled from the rapture.

Far below, Ztar let Archangel's emotions flow through him. And as before, he was awed by their power and depth. He sat quietly as feelings swept through his mind, swamping him, causing shudders.

Once the initial exhilaration passed, Warren warmed up with a set of aerial routines before heading toward the volcano. He rode an updraft toward its peak and remained aloft using nothing but air currents, wings spread wide to the sun and thermals. Warren's whole body was a sensor to the shifts in airflow, direction, and pattern. He became completely absorbed in the aerial environment. Small changes in wing angle and attitude to catch the right amount of lift were often all it took. Other times he had to search for the right wind pattern to hold him aloft without beating his wings. It was just him and the invisible currents – floating, rising, falling, rising again. Suddenly, he caught a strong updraft and rose sharply. That familiar stomach-left-behind feeling thrilled him. He loved the pressure of the rising thermal against the undersides of his wings – it was sensual.

When he started to get chilled, it was time to go lower. Exploring the island interior from the air, he noted how very different the vegetation was from Earth. A botanist's dream, Eriale had an astounding assortment of plants. His incredible eyesight allowed him to see every detail from the sky, right down to the patterns in the leaves and flower pedals. And flowers were everywhere. He wondered if that were true all year long, or if it was springtime on the island. Scents wafting up from the foliage and flowers were intoxicating.

Leaving the interior, he landed on one of the golden-red beaches. Reaching down, Warren scooped up a handful of sand and rubbed the grains between his fingers. Super-fine, not as coarse as most Earth beach sands. As such, it felt firmer under foot. But the sound of the waves against the beach was the same as Earth. Closing his eyes, Warren let his mind drift to a Caribbean island. He recalled the taste of tall island drinks, the laughter of friends, and rollicking in the water. Good times. Good memories. He shuddered and opened his eyes.

'That's all lost to me now,' he lamented, trying to harden his heart against the ache. It didn't work. Tears of loss and abandonment came again to anger him. 'One of these days, the crying's gotta stop!' he ordered himself. 'Self pity and wallowing gains you nothing.' He wiped his eyes and attempted to regain control, but that day, will and strength failed. Warren knelt in the sand and wept.

On the other side of the island, Ztar picked up Archangel's emotional state. How long should he allow the Human to grieve? He wasn't certain. Ztar would monitor and intercede only if necessary. He understood the man's need to release the emotions. Then for the first time in a very long time, Ztar felt the twinge of guilt.

As promised, Ztar allowed Warren the entire afternoon to fly and roam where he may. When the Emperor summoned, Warren returned. The Turzent did not make him fly into his arms like on Trapia, for which he was grateful. The return trip to the Mi-Lartui was made in comfortable silence, both men caught up in their own thoughts. And when Ztar visited Warren that night, he was surprisingly gentle. He remained in Warren's bed far longer afterward than typical, stroking and caressing. It made Warren uncomfortable that Ztar lingered, but the worst was over so he didn't complain. Exhausted after the previous late evening at the reception, rising early, the long outing that day with its emotional release, and Ztar's nighttime attentions…in spite of himself, Warren fell asleep while Ztar was still there.

Archangel drifted off on his own in the Emperor's embrace for the first time – sleep not induced by the telepath. It pleased Ztar more than he cared to admit. Looking at the face that in sleep was once again perfect – free of frowns from pain or suppressed anger – something squeezed tight in his chest.

The warrior ruler wasn't much for introspect, but he had noticed a change in himself. He thought about that during the shuttle ride from a'Etyrna. Ztar wondered how it was this one companion out of all the bedmates he'd had, willing and otherwise, was managing to thaw his heart.

Everything he had been through in life from a childhood with a brutish father, to time in the military clawing up the power ladder; the bitter betrayal of his superiors that lead to the augmentation program and its aftermath, through a vengeful rise to ultimate victory and emperorship – all had conspired to destroy whatever compassion and gentleness he may have once possessed. At least he thought it had.

He thought back to the early years in the Ta'oc military – it was actually the first good period in his life, both professionally and personally. The discipline and clear-cut expectations suited Ztar, and hard work to prove himself paid off. Rising through the ranks and well liked by both peers and superiors, he was someone people wanted to associate with. Nighttime companions were plentiful. Male or female, it didn't matter – he enjoyed both equally. Sex was fulfilling and varied and an important part of his life.

At one point, he'd even found love for a beautiful but brief while. Love was a first for him – it was something different, a bit frightening, and admittedly, he'd been at a loss as to how to handle the new and powerful feelings. Ztar had never cared deeply about anyone before, and his lover tried to teach him how to do so.

He sighed, brushing fingertips across Archangel's cheek. That love wasn't meant to be, and he'd put his heart back into the vault when she left. It hadn't seen the light of day since.

Then came treachery and genetic enhancement that made him too strong – too able to unintentionally inflict pain and injury in the throws of passion. His first lover after the augmentation had nearly died of her injuries when he lost himself to pent-up lust. Ztar had been horrified by that incident and had forsaken sex for a long time. Sexual energy was refocused on revenge and conquest and he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. But he missed intimacy, and so began the endless search for someone who could survive him.

The ensuing years brought failure after failure. Looking back, Ztar saw that with each new companion who couldn't satisfy, the anger deepened. Each successive bedmate had to endure even more simmering rage as he pushed the limits to see if finally he'd found someone with whom he didn't have to hold back.

Bedmates physically tough enough to withstand Ztar when he was unrestrained weren't typically sensual. The sensual ones didn't last physically. Many lacked the keen intellect and fiery character Ztar preferred. And if their bodies survived him, their minds and spirits had not. Only rarely was one with him more than a few weeks. Again and again, he was disappointed. And so it continued for years while anger and frustration grew, eroding the last vestiges of compassion until he finally simply took what he needed, no longer caring as to the consequences. Blackness had swallowed his soul.

He had decried the gods that decided he should be alone and had nearly given up hope; believing the most intimate facet of his life was to remain unsatisfying.

Until the Human. And not just any Human – a mutant like himself. Someone uniquely different from everyone around him.

Archangel was perfect in every sense that Ztar could name. None of the weaknesses of past bedmates was present. He defined sensual. A delicately carved body that could withstand whatever unchecked lust inflicted on it. Ztar could be unrestrained, and Archangel quickly healed. He could invade and control his mind, and Archangel proved psychologically tough and resilient. The man was intelligent. Adaptable. Archangel was self-sacrificing and would do what was necessary to safeguard his homeworld, giving Ztar a compliant, although decidedly unhappy, bedmate.

Yes, Archangel was perfect. Except the man loathed him.

Sighing deeply, the Emperor slipped out of the bed, but not before brushing a stray lock of hair from Archangel's face. Despite the winged man's hatred, Ztar again thanked the gods of Sat'rey for the day he saw the magnificent creature. But that creature was perhaps changing him, and he wasn't entirely sure he was happy about it. Would a changed Ztar remain the Emperor needed to control the Empire he forged? He didn't know.

###

_A/N: Most interested in hearing your feelings/thoughts on Ztar's introspective – what you came away with and how that affects your understanding of the Emperor. _

_Thank you for reading and for reviewing, if you choose to do so (which I really hope you do). See you for Chapter 14!_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Not much to say ahead of this installment. See you at the end!_

**Chapter 14**

"Got you!" de'Letnoir said with a little too much glee. Warren had quickly lost his fourth sonji-mir game that morning. None of the matches so far had lasted longer than a few minutes, even with de'Letnoir coaching Warren's moves.

"Beating novices seems to please you!" Warren chided with a smirk.

"Unashamedly so," de'Letnoir laughed. "The thrill of victory is something I'll take even if comes from someone who's just learning. I'm not a humble winner, you'll find."

"Figured that out the first time you whopped me in about three moves," Warren said easing back from the game table set up in the office area at the back of stores. Sonji-mir was a crazy blend of Chess, Go, and Yinsh. Incredibly complex, Warren had read and reread the rules and decided the only way to begin to understand the game was to start playing.

"At least you lay out the board correctly now," the officer jibed with a wide grin.

"I'll take my successes wherever I can at this point! I'm thinking the game takes a lifetime to master."

"You're right. Though some say you never really master it."

Warren nodded, staring at the board where de'Letnoir had secured victory in six moves. "I'm not ready to give up yet."

"Good! Then another lesson tomorrow?" de'Letnoir looked hopeful. He seemed to be enjoying teaching as much as having someone to best.

"I guess I'll come back for more punishment," Warren said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Did you try playing against the computer yet? Set it to novice level so you'll actually have a chance to play more than five moves," the crewmember added mischievously. "The teaching mode will even explain your move options and the strategy behind them."

"Good suggestion, but I spend way too much time in front of the computer already," Warren said crossing his arms and leaning back. It was a sad commentary of the dull life he was forced to live.

"You keep saying you want something to do from your chambers. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave many options, friend." Then de'Letnoir rested his forearms on the game table and looked directly into Warren's eyes. "Why don't you want to venture out? Why do you isolate yourself? Or is it on our Emperor's orders?"

'Shit. How do I want to handle this?' He gave himself time to think before speaking. "I'm having a hard time adjusting is all, and I feel more comfortable staying on deck two. Maybe once I feel more…settled…" and he left the rest open to interpretation.

The officer studied Warren for a bit, then slowly smiled. "I hope that's all it is. Some of us were thinking maybe we all smelled bad to you or something equally offensive," he chuckled.

The remark took Warren by surprise. Never once had he considered how his self-imposed isolation might look to the Mi-Lartui crew. Were they used to Ztar's previous companions (God, how he hated that word) milling around the ship and socializing? Was he the only one that had chosen to stay apart?

"My apologies. No, nothing like that. I just…need more time I guess."

de'Letnoir leaned back in the chair, looking more serious than Warren had seen him before. "You are welcome anywhere on this ship, Archangel. You are a member of the Emperor's extended Court and anyone on board would be honored to make your acquaintance." Then de'Letnoir smiled broadly. "I am!"

Warren was taken aback. Court? Honored? A very different perspective. Was de'Letnoir being truthful or kind? No way of knowing. Even if true, it changed nothing of how Warren felt about himself or his situation.

"Thanks, that's good to know."

"When you feel like venturing beyond deck two and stores, let me know and I'll join you…if you'd like."

"Thanks for the offer," Warren replied, but not sure when or if he'd take the officer up on his invitation. To be honest with himself, even if the Mi-Lartui crew was very offended by his standoffishness, he didn't care one iota.

###

Ztar's day had not gone well and he was angry. No, make that furious. Troubles again with Mygra System, only now it seemed the Commonwealth may be playing a major role. MI's investigation found connections between the Mygra resistance and Commonwealth spies. After reading the report, Ztar had comlinked directly with General Gtar-Cro. They discussed the various implications of that intelligence along with the progress made regarding the Raisil situation. Too many possible infiltrations and subversive activities happening in a relatively short period. Ztar was beginning to seethe about continued Commonwealth subterfuge. Something was definitely amiss with that realm, and Ztar wanted confirmation of what it was and he wanted it immediately.

Not only were the Mygra System and the Commonwealth growing agitations, but the small Etabre Collective he wanted to add to the Empire was baulking. At first, Etabre appeared to be an easy acquisition with resources of immediate value. They hadn't the military might to fight off the Empire for long and knew it. Their representatives had presented themselves as agreeable entrants into Turzent space, and thus the Collective's populace would enjoy the freedoms of those who chose not to fight, but join willingly. All had seemed to go according to plan. Now Planetary Relations informed him that the Etabres were dragging their feet with all manner of special requests and objections to standard conditions of entry. None of it unexpected – negotiations are negotiations. But it never failed to raise Ztar's ire when a system he could crush in a matter of days felt bold enough to make special demands. For now, he'd let his shrewd planetary relations staff and legal counselors work out the issues. Still, the situation irritated him. If in the end he had to go in with military force, beware!

Staff reports were filled with numerous other smaller issues that were being dealt with by subordinates, yet each new problem was an irritant. Then to top everything off nicely, he learned at the morning staff meeting that Mi-Lartui had developed FTL drive "abnormalities" as chief engineer de'Redlyr phrased it. Unless it could be corrected underway, they would need to go a repair station. He had the best engineering crew in the Empire and expected his ship to perform accordingly. Therefore, Ztar was never happy when the Mi-Lartui had to dock for repairs.

Pacing back and forth in his chambers, he realized he was feeling more and more manipulated by Commonwealth scheming. The one thing Ztar hated most was feeling controlled or plied and it was dredging up old emotions and wounds. It was likely the root of much of the anger he felt boiling just below the surface. However, knowing that and dispelling the fury were two different things.

He needed Archangel to escape for awhile. A release in the bedchamber would steady him. It was still afternoon, but that didn't matter. Archangel should be in his chambers as usual. A fire ignited in his groin with the mere thought of an afternoon interlude, something he had rarely allowed himself through the years. Discipline caused him to focus on imperial matters during the days, and partake of personal pleasures after hours. But that day, he'd allowed himself the special indulgence. Ztar placed his palm on the bio-sig panel and strode into the adjoining quarters. Archangel was not there.

'Where?' Reaching out telepathically he found the Human in stores chatting with the procurement officer. Of all the times for Archangel to be socializing, Ztar thought illogically, as if Archangel should have known he wanted a daytime tryst. Ztar called himself on the irrational notion. Still, he was perturbed regardless of how illogical it was.

Rather than summoning Archangel telepathically, Ztar would wait. It would give him time to anticipate the delights to come. How long could Archangel be, after all?

###

"Perhaps we should begin scheduled deliveries to your chambers," the procurement officer ribbed. "You could place a standing order – we'll deliver every couple days!" Officer de'Letnoir snickered as Warren pulled several items from the storage units.

Warren couldn't help but chuckle, too. It felt so similar to the friendly teasing he endured at the X-mansion about his constant need for food. As much as he had protested the joking, he enjoyed the camaraderie it created. Yes, he should have grabbed up a few items after their morning sonji-mir game, but it was Warren's excuse for venturing outside his chambers for a second time that day.

"Then I wouldn't get to interrupt your naptime, de'Letnoir!" Warren continued the repartee.

"Oh, there's no napping down here. Not when I've got to stay on top of my rapidly dwindling stocks!" The alien let loose one of his boisterous laughs.

Warren shook his head as he bagged his booty. The procurement officer rested elbows on the service counter and eyed Warren.

"Archangel, we were wondering…I was wondering, you've been on board for about what, 45-50 days now? Perhaps it's time for you to venture out. Previous companions usually took advantage of Mi-Lartui's facilities. There's no reason to isolate yourself – it can't be good for you. And don't tell me coming down here an hour or two for sonji-mir is enough." de'Letnoir's voice carried concern.

Warren stopped in mid-motion. Hearing the word companion was cutting and humiliating, but he swallowed down the emotions as he knew de'Letnoir had no idea now much it affected him.

"I'm having a small gathering after shift tomorrow," the procurement office continued. "Xliar from engineering, Podranitz-Myr from security, and a couple others. Just a few drinks and some light food. Would you be interested? I'd be honored if you'd come. So would the others."

Warren blinked at the officer. He was quite surprised by the offer. Playing a board game with the crewmember to past the long hours was one thing, but to be invited to join him and his friends…that was completely unexpected. Warren wasn't sure what his expression had revealed, but suddenly de'Letnoir appeared worried.

"If I broke protocol or some other rule, please forgive me!"

Warren found his voice. "No. At least I don't think so," He actually had no idea. Putting that aside, Warren wasn't sure he wanted to form any attachments. Emotionally, he didn't think he was up for it. Yet he was so lonely. The days were long and empty. But would Ztar allow it even if Warren decided he'd like to join the officer and his friends? Did Warren care one way or the other?

"Can I get back to you?" he offered.

"Of course. I know you need to check the Emperor's schedule."

"Yes," he replied faintly. 'It's so hard to arrange your social calendar when you need to be available to be sexual assaulted every night.' The thought burned like acid, but he managed a smile for the alien who was becoming a friend. "Thank you for the invite."

"Just so there's plenty of incentive, know that we'll be enjoying a glass or two of Dison," de'Letnoir added with a sly grin.

Warren couldn't help but smile back. "Very tempting." He packed the rest of the foodstuffs into his parcel.

"You can let me know tomorrow morning when I beat you once again at sonji-mir!" de'Letnoir jabbed, grinning widely.

###

Waiting was not one of Ztar's strengths. Minutes passed and still no Archangel. He paced, errant thoughts bouncing back and forth between impatient conjectures as to what was taking his companion so long and irritated condemnation of Commonwealth attempts to undermine his empire. All the while, anger built steadily.

'By the gods, where is Archangel?' he demanded. Reaching out once again, he found Archangel still in stores. He would tolerate no more delays.

/ _Archangel, to your chambers now!_ / he lashed out telepathically.

In stores, the procurement officer stopped in mid sentence as Warren's hand went to his head with a wince.

"Are you not well?" the Officer de'Letnoir asked alarmed, eyes wide.

"The Emperor – he wants me upstairs," Warren muttered, Ztar's voice ringing in his head. The angry telepathic bolt smarted and dread clenched his stomach.

Officer de'Letnoir picked up and handed over the parcel. "I hope all is well…"

'What a surreal life I'm leading,' Warren reflected bitterly walking down the corridor with heavy steps. He was obeying the summons by an obviously irate alien rapist, and he was doing so of his own volition. 'What's got a burr up the bastard's ass? God, how could my life be more fucked up – literally and figuratively?' And he didn't have a goddamn choice. Just need to hang on until your friends come, he kept telling himself, but it had been 50 days and belief in rescue was wavering. 'Dear God, if I have to live like this for much longer… If they don't come…'

He swallowed down despair and hopelessness that all too quickly rose up. 'Don't think that way,' he scolded himself, returning thoughts to the immediate situation. No matter how furious the Emperor sounded, Warren couldn't bring himself to hurry to minimize that fury. With each step, anxiety grew.

What did Ztar want? Would this be like after Trapia? Did he want an afternoon romp? An angry Ztar would mean a brutal Ztar. Nausea followed the thought.

He contemplated how he might handle the situation. Yet in the past, Warren's attempts to mitigate Ztar's aggressiveness usually backfired, so 'handling the situation' may be overly optimistic. If he couldn't calm the alien, things would be bad. But it was only afternoon and perhaps Ztar didn't want what Warren thought. No way to know until he got to his chambers.

###

With Archangel on the way, Ztar was only somewhat less irritated. Mental monitoring showed the Human was not moving with haste. Empathically, Ztar could feel the apprehension, but that was no excuse for a leisurely stroll to deck two. When he commanded, the Emperor expected people to hustle. The fact that Archangel was taking his time was intolerable!

Ztar forced himself to sit, anger simmering. He had been more than accommodating to Archangel's needs, stopping by planets to allow the Human time in the air. Plus, Ztar had told Sukja to do whatever was necessary to ensure Archangel was comfortable. And Ztar had been gentle in bed several times, setting aside his own needs to make those encounters less difficult for the man. All was more than Ztar had done for any bedmate in recent memory. It was beyond what a bedmate should expect. Didn't that deserve greater respect than leisurely meandering? Perhaps a lesson in respect was in order.

###

Warren entered his chambers hesitantly. The Emperor sat stiffly in the lounge area. One look and Warren knew foul mood was an understatement. He set the foodstuffs down in the kitchen.

"You called?" he asked mildly, trying to lighten the mood – maybe that would ease the situation.

The Human sounded flippant. Ztar rose slowly and righted himself to his full seven-foot stature. "You kept me waiting," the Emperor pointed out in an ominous tone.

"I came straight here, but I didn't know you were in a hurry," Warren countered, keeping his voice calm. Unfortunately, Ztar did not look pleased at the reply.

"I summoned you, and you _intentionally_ took your time," the second accusation was delivered with menacing chill.

Warren stayed in the kitchen as far from Ztar as he could physically be in the chambers. 'This does not look good, Warren ol' boy.' He was starting to sweat. "No, Ztar, I came immediately. What more do you want?" Warren questioned. He hadn't run to his chambers, true. Is that what Ztar had expected? Ridiculous!

'How _dare_ this Human think he can dally when I command!' Anger no longer simmered…it rolled in a full boil. Ztar took a step closer, narrowed eyes hardening. "I demand more respect than a slow, leisurely pace when summoned, Archangel. Perhaps you forget your place."

Warren saw the change from barely controlled anger to what looked to be erupting fury. His heart raced at the thought of Ztar losing control. The alien mutant was capable of inflicting a lot of pain in a lot of ways. 'What the hell has him so angry? How to defuse this? Same as Trapia?' he thought desperately.

/ _Do not even contemplate that trick!_ / Ztar burned the warning into Archangel's mind.

The words felt like tendrils of liquid fire in his brain. Warren yelped in pain and clutched his head. "I won't! Ztar, I'm sorry! But you're angry about something. What did I _do?_" Warren pleaded hoping the direct approach would work.

Ztar moved in as rage gripped his mind in a blistering fever. "What is wrong is the lack of respect that you've developed. When I command, you obey! No excuses. No _delays!_"

Warren wanted to run, but he was trapped in the corner. Ztar's long legs closed the gap quickly, wrath contorting the man's face.

"Ztar, I came when you called! Why are you so mad? You're being irrational!" Warren argued, backing into the wall as the Emperor reached him. He wanted to strike out, escape, something, but knew it would only make matters worse. Ztar's behavior was as bewildering as it was frightening. The alien had been less volatile of late – what changed? What happened? Warren was at a loss for an explanation.

"_Insolent!_" he roared. Grabbing an arm, he yanked the Human out of the kitchen and into the main living area. With a powerful shove, Archangel was on the floor on his backside.

'What the hell is wrong with Ztar? He's lost it!' Dread was coiling up inside Warren, twisting his guts. 'This is going to be bad!' Was Ztar going to beat him? A brutal rape? What? The situation was insanity! He'd done nothing to create so much hostility. With Ztar looming over him, Warren remained on the floor. Getting up would be a huge mistake he knew without a shadow of doubt.

"Ztar, you're losing control," Warren said up to the figure looming as softly and gently as he could. "Maybe I can help…" He was quickly running out of options to calm the alien.

Ztar knelt swiftly down next to Archangel, fire burning white hot in the brown eyes. He'd had enough. "Perhaps you should have been more prompt when I called you."

With a hand to Warren's chest, Ztar pushed him hard into the floor. The pain that shot through Warren's back and wings took his breathe away. 'Shit!' He grabbed the arm holding him down and tried to dislodge it, but the raging alien was far too strong. "What are you doing? _What did I do? _I don't understand!"

"We have sex here." Ztar flattened the Human's legs with a swipe to the ankles and quickly swung himself over the man, never removing the hand from Archangel's chest.

Warren was in his worst possible position – on his back on a hard surface. The thin rug did nothing to cushion the floor. Pain radiated across his back and wing joints, from wing base to wing tip. 'God, that hurts!'

"The bed would be more comfortable. This is not good," he offered while battling against intense urges to fight off his attacker.

"I will have you where I choose!" Was there no end to the Human's impertinence?

As Ztar leaned down on Warren's chest, the pain increased dramatically and he hissed through clenched teeth. 'Bastard! Mother fucking son of a bitch!' he swore as the pain shot through him. "Ztar, if you want sex, fine, but not here. Please, think about what you're doing." He tried reasoning with the man one more time, but it was becoming very clear that Ztar was beyond reason.

"This works perfectly," Ztar said into Archangel's ear before bringing his mouth down hard on the Human's. The teeth were clenched tight and he wanted in. / _Open to me now!_ /

Pain escalated as wing joints ground into the floor and Warren would have had a hard time unclenching his teeth even if he had wanted to. Suddenly, a steel vise clamped around his mind. Warren's mouth opened without his control and Ztar kissed him savagely, his full upper body weight coming down on Warren. Wings and back screamed their agony, but Warren could do nothing under the telepathic hold. He would heal, but Ztar was being cruel and Warren could find nothing to warrant it.

/ _Z-Ztar, stop! Why are you doing this? Let me up! _/ he projected desperately, but Ztar did not relent. The kissing and roving hands continued unabated. / _I don't deserve this. I-I came when you called. What did I do wrong? What?_ / Even in his mind, the words cracked with emotion and tears of pain filled his eyes. / _Why?_ /

Ztar filled his mouth with Archangel's, ignoring the plaintive mental pleas. He would take his companion there on the floor, protests or no protests. Ztar knew Archangel was in pain, but pain was a powerful teacher. The Human would learn respect. He would do as commanded – promptly.

Warren wanted to fight, kick, punch whatever it took to get the heavy alien off, but he had learned it would only increase the brutality. Every movement of his body caused stabbing pain. It was becoming nearly impossible to bite back groans and yelps. And then suddenly, thoughts of fighting fell away and there was no more anger.

Hopelessness wrapped around Warren. He could find nothing to justify the Ztar's anger. The past weeks he had worked to read what triggered aggression. He'd believed the alien was easing up; hoped the worst was over. Hope shattered. The man was attacking him for no apparent reason – out of the blue. If Warren couldn't predict the rages, then he'd live in constant high alert and dread. Was that how it would be for the rest of his days? Never knowing what would set the alien monarch off? Never certain of why cruelty was inflicted?

Warren was sacrificing so much while trying to remain sane. Walking the tightrope between submission and holding onto a shred of self-respect was stress to the extreme. He couldn't do it any more. Couldn't hold on any longer. And who cared? No one. He was not worth it…certainly not in Ztar's eyes and not to the people who had bartered him away. A pretty body for the alien's sadistic sexual gratification and an outlet for his anger – that's all he was. An endless, living nightmare filled with fear, pain, and slavery was his only future. Rescue wasn't coming. Warren gave up. Hope collapsed with a physical shudder. Misery and despair rushed in to fill the void and consume body and soul.

He devoured Archangel as the dark compulsion drove him. Unchecked emotions whirled in a wild, volatile blend. Colliding needs – Ztar wanted Archangel in sensual passion to escape the aggravations of the day, yet he wanted to punish the defiant Human for his insolence. Ztar pushed aside internal contradiction and ran his hands over the magnificent body that was his possession. It belonged to him and him alone. He would use it as he saw fit.

Fingers raked through feathers, tore at clothing, and pressed into the Human's body with force, while the object of the lust/anger groaned and hissed. With a hand to either side of Archangel's head, the darkness inside Ztar held his companion fast in another crushing kiss. 'Take what you need!' it whispered in his mind.

Empathic ability pricked at his consciousness with flickers of bleakness, but the dark anger within the Turzent ignored the whispers. All that mattered was satisfying the need to dominate…control…feed the beast within. Savagely, he assailed the shuddering body beneath him. Still holding the face between his hands, Ztar consumed the sensual mouth, nearly sucking the breath from his companion in desire so powerful he wished to physically meld with the man.

Then awareness came of a strange sensation…almost like a trickle across the back of one hand. Odd!

Rising up slightly, he looked more fully at Archangel. The Human's eyes were overflowing with tears. Ztar gazed at the sight. Crying? That wasn't supposed to happen! He reached out empathically. Pain, despair – so dark! Archangel was being swallowed. It was like a bucket of ice water to the face.

'By the gods!' Ztar's anger evaporated with realization that he had lost himself once again to the beast within. Nearly leaping backward off Archangel, he was mortified. 'Not again! By the gods, what am I _doing?_'

"My Archangel!" Ztar reached out and pulled his companion up into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around the trembling body. "You are right, you did nothing to deserve this. I lost control."

Warren allowed the Emperor to hold him without struggling, too numb to care. The alien stroked his wings and rocked gently, but said nothing more. A few moments later, Ztar initiated standing.

"I will not come to you tonight. Rest."

With that, Ztar returned to his chambers. Warren noted that although the Emperor seemed remorseful, he did not apologize. Apparently, imperial whores weren't worthy of that either.

###

'What manner of man _am_ I?' Ztar raged at himself. 'For taking two extra minutes to come, I _punish_ him?'

The Emperor stormed back and forth in turmoil. 'Where did all my grand plans go to be consistent and steady with Archangel? My anger had nothing to do with him, yet he suffered for it! By the gods, how can I justify that?'

He needed Sukja. His attendant would help sort things out…help repair the damage.

###

Warren moved to the window seat and crawled into the corner. Pulling wings tightly around, caring little about the pain that still stabbed with their every movement, he tried to go away in his mind.

"I can't do this anymore. Can't," he whimpered. 'God, please release me from this hell. I'll do anything! _Please!_' he begged. 'Why am I here? Why am I being punished? What did I do so wrong in my life? I just need to know!'

Warren remained huddled in the corner, hugging knees to chest within the feather cocoon.

###

Sukja entered Ztar's chambers knowing the man was in emotional chaos – that was evident from his mental summons.

"My Emperor," he greeted the pacing man; his concern deepening at the sight. Catching a glimpse of the Turzent's face revealed deep furrows creasing the otherwise smooth forehead. Only a handful of situations could so visibly agitate the monarch. It didn't take much deductive ability to guess the latest upset had to do with Archangel. Sukja braced himself for another bedchamber crisis.

"I don't know what came over me, Sukja! Archangel did _not_ cause my anger, but he took the brunt of it. I wanted him so I could _escape_, not so he could become its target. But that's what happened!"

Sukja needed the story to back up a few steps if he was going to be of any assistance. "Could we sit?" he suggested. Ztar hesitated at first, but then complied. "You went to Archangel this afternoon, and things didn't go as planned," Sukja opened.

Ztar nodded and then related the situation in all its fury-filled details. As he described what had transpired, it only drove home more clearly how misdirected the anger had been.

"It wasn't about Archangel taking his time; I was upset about everything else. I was wrong to take it out on him. That's not what I intended, but I lost control – again! I could have found the quiet place in his mind as I've done before, but my anger blocked any desire for that. By the gods, I need to get a handle on this!" Ztar couldn't sit any longer. He stood and began pacing again. "He offered to help me calm down. Begged me to stop. He pleaded to know what he'd done wrong, but I listened to none of it. What by the gods is _wrong_ with me? Why do I lose control?"

Ztar's desperation to understand his deep-seated anger was a good sign, but only if the man used understanding to conquer the rage. Insight gains you little if the knowledge isn't applied. This was an old battle for the warrior king, one in which he'd gained ground in fits and starts. And many times, he had fallen back. Sukja sighed internally.

"But you did _regain_ control, my Emperor. That's encouraging," Sukja pointed out, trying to find some good in the backward slip. The Emperor was more distraught over what had happened than he'd seen in a long time.

"Only after I had inflicted enough pain that Archangel was crying. _Crying_, Sukja! How much damage did I do today? He's filled with despair – the empathic connection is dark. He's curled in a corner thinking how hopeless his situation is. If I lose him to that despair, I will never forgive myself."

Ztar wrestled with emotions he hadn't felt over a bedmate in years. He'd harden his heart so much to avoid the pain as companion after companion could not survive or satisfy him. All he wanted was someone who made him burn with desire. Someone with whom he didn't have to be less than what he was; didn't have to hold back and accept less than complete fulfillment. The augmentation took so much from him. Damn the gods for the day he was betrayed by those he trusted! May they burn in whatever hell he had sent them to.

"Don't be too harsh with yourself, my Emperor. You're working on controlling the anger…making progress – that's what is important. Change does not happen overnight." Ztar's anger with himself would not remedy the situation…it might actually add to the deep rage. That worried Sukja.

Ztar stopped and faced his attendant squarely. "Tell that to Archangel!" he fired back with a sweep of an arm toward the adjoining chambers. "Or to any of the bedmates I've hurt. I don't know what I _am_ anymore! But I do know what I want – Archangel. I want him in my life for a very long time. I finally have a companion that satisfies me. I've waited years for him, Sukja – can you understand?"

Sukja nodded. He knew all too well how long the Emperor had tried to find a suitable companion. And Sukja knew precisely how many bedmates Ztar had gone through during his years of service to the Emperor. Sukja remembered their names, their faces – some of them haunted him, especially those that didn't not survive intact – either physically or mentally. Most, though, were simply discarded by the Emperor as unsuitable.

"I do understand. I know how important it is to you that this pairing works."

Ztar walked again, but more slowly and with less agitation. "For it to work, I need to get a handle on the misdirected anger. But it takes over before I know what's happening." The deep voice was filled with frustration.

"There are warning signs – we've discussed them. That's when you must stop the spiraling. Right then, when you see the signs." Sukja had coached Ztar on the issue far longer than Archangel had been in the picture. Ztar said he wanted to gain control over the internal anger, and Sukja believed he was being truthful. Ztar knew the signals of impending rage, and often he would halt the escalation at that point. Then there were other times, like that afternoon, when he let the rage overwhelm him. Why?

Ztar stopped in front of the windows and stared out at the star streaks as the Mi-Lartui sped through the blackness. That blackness resembled the part of himself he was struggling to control – it was dark and deep. He sighed. "You must tire of giving me that advice over and over. The results are always the same. I know what to do, yet…" the Turzent shook his head. "I am a mystery unto myself."

The Emperor stood quietly for a minute contemplating. "Perhaps I didn't have enough reason in the past to conquer this. My previous companions were failures – what was there to motivate me? Those failures only added to the anger. Maybe I really didn't care if I caused them pain – they were part of the problem."

They'd been down this path before, too, Sukja lamented silently. What Ztar said was likely one facet of the issue, but Sukja believed it went deeper than failed pairings. The failures were symptoms, not causes.

Ztar turned away from the vastness of space to face his confidante. "But Archangel is different. He is perfect for me in every way I can name. He will be my motivation, Sukja. He will give me reason to halt the anger." Ztar strode back to sit once again across from the attendant. "I want him so _much_. The fire he ignites burns white hot in me. I've felt nothing like it before. It consumes me…" Ztar's voice trailed off.

A tinge of concern ran through Sukja at the Emperor's words. They hinted of obsession, something that could become a problem. It would bear watching. "Do you want more from Archangel than him just in your bed?" Sukja inquired.

Ztar looked into the Ozjaerian's gray eyes. "Yes. For the first time in a long time, I think I want more than just a bedmate. I might want it go to beyond sex. Perhaps Archangel could be a _true_ companion."

Sukja was pleased to hear the man at long last was considering a relationship rather than just a sex partner. But Archangel was not there of his own choosing and a deeper relationship between Ztar and the Human may never be possible. That could be a very problematic.

"My Emperor, it pleases me greatly that you may have finally found someone you wish to bond with more closely. Very good news indeed." Sukja paused knowing the man may not want to hear what he had to say next. "But I also caution about expecting too much. Archangel is not here willingly. Not only is he here against his will, but your pairing is unnatural to him. There is only so much you can reasonably expect. Do not build up hopes for what may not be possible." When it looked like Ztar was going to interrupt in protest, Sukja plowed forward. "I'm not saying it could never happen, but let reason guide you. Don't press for more than he's capable of giving, especially this early. Be clear in your own mind about what you want from Archangel in the _short_ term and make sure he knows that. Be steady and consistent as we discussed before. Let him first settle into this new life with clear but _limited_ expectations."

Ztar sat transfixed on his attendant's words. They spoke of that which he hadn't wanted to face, but needed to. With Sukja's summation, the road ahead looked very rocky. He had to get a handle on the blackness within or all was lost.

"As for your own behavior, I see it as one step backward in a generally forward journey. You will overcome this, my Emperor. For now, reassure Archangel with your actions, as that will go further than words. His despair comes from belief that his circumstance will never improve. Show him it can. If you're consistent, he will learn what to expect from you and what you expect from him. When things are clear and settled and he is less fearful, the despair should ease."

Ztar sighed heavily. "If only it were all as easy as saying the words."

"Very little in life that's worth pursuing is easy, my Emperor, but you have the will and the strength to do whatever you set your mind to do," Sukja encouraged with a reassuring smile.

"I told him I wouldn't go to him tonight, but I want him," the Emperor admitted.

"Keep your word. Never lie to Archangel. More than anything, he needs to know he can believe what you say. And you need to know he believes you. I cannot emphasize that enough."

Ztar was thoughtful for a bit, his mind wandering to what the future might hold. "He's developing a friendship with Procurement Officer de'Letnoir. That's a good sign," he noted offhandedly.

"I know. de'Letnoir keeps me informed. He is encouraging Archangel to start forming attachments among the crew. So far, though, he is only comfortable with the officer."

Ztar did not respond to that information, but sat quietly for many moments. "You've given me much to contemplate, my attendant."

"Then I have served my Emperor well today."

With the Turzent assuaged, Sukja's thoughts turned to the Human. What Ztar had said earlier about his emotional state was worrisome. "I should check on Archangel," he informed Ztar.

Ztar nodded. "The empathic connection remains dark and heavy. His thoughts…" Ztar paused as he surface-read Archangel, "are of what he's lost…and life without hope. He is on the verge of depression," he finished with a heavy, almost painful sigh. The damage he'd done in just a few uncontrolled minutes…

Ztar rubbed his tense neck muscles. 'In the name of the gods, how did I come to this? Ripping a being from everything he knows to satisfy my needs?' he questioned himself. 'But it's imperial tradition,' he justified, 'my right to claim whomever I choose. And now that I have Archangel, I can't let him go. I won't! He is mine and he must survive. I must make certain of that.'

"I will see to him." As he rose from the chair, Sukja saw both sadness and determination in Ztar's countenance. The Emperor wanted so much from the Human and the only things Archangel felt toward Ztar was odium and repulsion. How could their pairing ever work? Sukja chose not to dwell on that. At that moment, Archangel's emotional crisis was top priority.

###

Despair coiled around him like icy blackness. He felt cold and dead from the inside out. Where was the anger? He should be livid at what Ztar did. All he felt was hopelessness. The rampage in his room, the days of simmering fury, and his brief physical attack of the alien – was that all he had? Had he been beaten down already? How pathetic!

Warren tried to rekindle the fire. 'You should be ripping this room apart again, Worthington. Where's the Archangel in you? Instead, you're curled up in this corner like some whipped puppy feeling sorry for yourself. Is this how you want Scott and Hank and the others to find you?'

His chest tightened at the thought of friends that were family. Hope tried to rise up again. They were coming, weren't they? The Prof would find a way, wouldn't he? But belief in that rescue had become extremely tenuous. Only by him remaining with Ztar would the Earth be safe from the Turzents. And Warren didn't believe for one minute that Ztar's threat against Earth was empty. And the senseless episode minutes earlier proved how unstable the alien was. Ztar would do what he said if angry enough, Warren believed.

'They're not coming for you – it's not logical. Why put all of Humanity in jeopardy for me? Not happening, flyboy. You were a fool to have believed it. Who in their right mind would risk a planet to save one individual?' Warren shuddered with the final release of that belief and felt sick.

'Charles knows you. Knows you'll do exactly what you've been doing – whatever it takes to protect Earth. They're counting on that. Every damn one of them that sold you out is counting on you to make whatever sacrifices are demanded. Why risk such a simple solution with an improbable rescue directly prohibited by the Accord? Back on Earth, life is going merrily along as if the Turzent Empire doesn't exist. Only a stupid and naïve fool would believe anyone back home would risk that for me. Stupid and naïve!'

Blackness sunk deeper.

Belief in a miracle rescue had kept him from contemplating his long-term prospects, but if rescue was not coming, then what? Suddenly, the future was very bleak. Empty days without purpose. Pain-filled nights spent beneath the brutal alien who had stolen everything.

'That can't be all there is! But God, it is. Everything's gone. My life is gone. No Worthington Industries, no saving the world from the bad guys. No friends, no family. I'll never see them again. I'm nothing – not an X-man, not the head of Mom and Dad's company. I'm not even a person by the Accord…just so much property. Nothing. Nobody. Only a whore for Ztar's sexual gratification. God, I can't live like that!' He held tight to himself, wanting to scream until his voice gave out. 'Damn Sukja – he should have let me go crazy that night. Insanity would be better than this.'

Despair drove itself into his soul and he moaned from the stab. Tears and gut-wrenching sobs came without warning and with such intensity, he shook. They helped nothing and only served to make him more ashamed.

'You're pathetic, Worthington. What kind of X-man sits in the corner bawling like a child? Get angry, goddamn it! Stand up for yourself! Figure out some way to fight back!' But he couldn't resurrect the fury and the tears kept coming.

'Weak and pathetic,' he judged himself with disgust.

###

_A/N: A very dark hour for our Warren. Hope has abandoned and left Warren with what? _

_Would be positively thrilled with feedback on this chapter. So much inner turmoil for both of our main characters, and Sukja caught in the middle as usual. Hearing your thoughts will help me determine if I got across what I intended._

_Thank you in advance and see you for C15 soon._


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Welcome to Chapter 15. For those of you who enjoy reading more about character backgrounds, check out the end of this segment. _

_Meanwhile, let's see how the aftermath of Ztar's screw-up plays out. _

**Chapter 15**

Sukja left Ztar's chambers for his own. What the Emperor had said about the Human's level of despair concerned him greatly. First, though, he checked via the monitor. What he saw magnified the worry. In fact, he was so alarmed that if he wasn't invited in, he may enter the Human's chambers anyway. He headed down the hall to Archangel's door.

"Archangel, may I enter?" Sukja asked through the comm and waited. No response. "Archangel, please let me in. I'd like to talk about what happened with Ztar. I think you'll want to hear what I have to say," he hoped to stimulate enough curiosity for an invitation.

From the corner of the window seat, Warren sucked in a breath and halted the crying at the sound of Sukja's voice. 'Just leave me alone,' he thought weakly. He had as much desire to see Sukja as he had to see Ztar. They were one in the same for all intents and purposes. Ztar used and abused while Sukja manipulated compliance and mopped up afterward. What could Sukja possibly have to say that would change anything?

"Archangel, I'm concerned about you. Please allow me to come in," he pleaded gently.

'Yea, right. Concerned that maybe I'll slit my throat and your Emperor won't have his whore to fuck and torture anymore. Maybe he'll turn on the rest of you then – is that it?' Warren again tried to rekindle something other than anguish, but the words rang hollow.

Sukja contemplated breaking his word and entering without permission. It would be a serious breach of trust. Did the situation warrant it? From what Ztar said and from the image of the Human tucked in the corner sobbing, it may. He'd try again first, though.

"You deserve an explanation. At least allow yourself to have that and then I'll leave."

Anger didn't hurt. Anger might keep him going. Warren desperately wanted it back, but it eluded him. Perhaps if he listened to Sukja attempt to explain Ztar's behavior, it would rise up. Maybe for a change, he could do the using. Lame justifications might resurrect his inner fire and maybe hold back depression or insanity. All he had left was his mind – his life stolen away; even his body was no longer his own. It would be the ultimate defeat to allow Ztar to destroy his spirit.

'Hold on to at least that much, X-man. Suck it up and act like a warrior instead of a beaten dog!' As tough sounding as his thoughts were, he wasn't feeling very strong. He rose on shaky legs, blew his nose, and wiped his eyes. 'Let's see how fired up we can get!'

Sukja was nearly ready to activate the door control when the invitation came.

"Enter."

He sighed in deep relief. First step accomplished. Archangel stood near the window seat. Sukja took a moment for careful examination. Arms were crossed across the chest, chin up, and feet slightly spread – a defiant stance. Despite the obvious effort to look bold, other things contradicted…wings drooped and were held tight to the back, dullness permeated the red and swollen eyes; uncombed hair hung in the face. Archangel looked miserable. Yet it was more than misery; the man looked exhausted and defeated. Dark circles underscored the eyes. Wings scruffy. He was too thin, almost gaunt. It was not the same person Sukja first saw 50 days ago. The change hadn't happened overnight; it crept up insidiously. Archangel was perhaps at the end of endurance, and Sukja's anxiety sank deeper.

"Can I pour us some Dison?" he offered.

"We're not friends, alien. I choose not to drink with my enemy today," Warren said harshly, attempting to ignite a spark.

Sukja observed the contrast between the words and the body language. The words were heated, but everything else read as demoralized. "I'll get the Dison anyway, in case you change your mind. I know I could use a drink after talking with Ztar." Sukja headed to the liquor cabinet and hoped by ignoring Archangel's wishes, he could trigger something other than despair in the man.

Warren watched with some irritation as the attendant helped himself. Sukja was a master manipulator, so every action was suspect. Warren would allow the irritation he was certain Sukja had intended as it served _his_ purpose, not because he was naïve to the maneuverings.

Glasses filled, Sukja settled into a chair, taking a sip of the sweet, fiery liqueur. The second glass sat waiting.

"Ztar's anger was misdirected this afternoon," Sukja opened. "He regrets it deeply."

Warren could keep his thoughts to himself or he could play the game. If he played along, it may fire him up. Yet the effort already seemed too much. Warren struggled to focus through the emotional darkness.

"Bullshit! He regrets nothing. You and I both know that," Warren volleyed back, dropping his arms to his sides.

"You're wrong," Sukja replied simply. "He regrets that it caused you pain – physically and emotionally."

Warren nearly laughed and choked at the same time. "Do you really expect me to believe that? That is the single most ludicrous statement I've heard in years," he retorted flatly with a dismissive wave of a hand. 'Absurd! How gullible do they think me to be?' If there was one thing he knew without a doubt, it was that Ztar couldn't care less about his feelings. Driving that point home was Ztar's Accord – Warren was no longer even a person by its terms. Inanimate objects don't have feelings.

But as ridiculous as Sukja's words were, they failed to generate any real anger. Despair held fast. The conversation was pointless. Why did he bother letting Sukja in? Even if he managed to get riled, what good would it do? What had he thought would change by it? He'd feel better? Hold onto sanity? Maybe remaining sane was a mistake.

"It is truth whether you choose to believe it or not," Sukja said with conviction. "Things can change – your circumstance can improve. The Emperor does not wish to cause you undue distress. He's learning to control his temper, but as with any change, it takes time and there will be slips." Sukja hoped the direct, honest approach would have some effect. Archangel needed to know things could improve – without hope, they would likely lose the man to depression.

"The Emperor does not wish to cause me _undue distress?_" That got Warren's ire up, at least a little. "Perhaps he should consider releasing me. That would _greatly_ reduce my distress." He moved to the window seat and sat heavily. He was tired to the core. He wanted the Emperor's puppeteer gone.

Sukja ignored the comment. "Things will improve, Archangel. Life will not always be so bleak. Ztar is changing – has changed. I've witnessed it."

"Then I can only imagine what the whores before me must have endured. Did any of them survive? How many died or went insane at Ztar's hands? Tell me that, attendant!" As Warren spoke the words, he knew he'd touched a nerve in Sukja. A slight change of the facial expression gave it away.

"You are what's important right now, Archangel. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through, but I'm a good listener and I do have some influence with the Emperor."

There was so much hypocrisy in the first statement; Warren couldn't believe Sukja actually uttered it. Soul-deep exhaustion suddenly made any further conversation was too much effort. Not worth it. All Warren wanted was to be alone. He wanted to sink into the blackness that beckoned. There'd be no miracle rescue. His old life was gone and he might as well accept it. Nothing was left to him. Aloneness and misery was all the future held.

"Leave," he said succinctly.

The discussion had taken a turn for the worse. Ztar needed him to soothe the Human and ease the despair, but Sukja's heart wasn't in and it showed. Even to him, his words rang insincere and trite. Archangel's expression had changed from brief, mild irritation to complete despondency in seconds. Sukja understood Archangel had every reason and right to feel hopeless. Everything had been ripped from him and he was forced to be the bedmate of the man responsible. Despair was not unexpected; it was normal.

But if the despair sank deep enough, the Human may no longer care what happened to his homeworld. Once that leverage was gone, Archangel would become difficult to control. Despair also had frightening bedfellows – depression and suicide. Ztar had lost a prior bedmate to that darkness when the pain of indentured life was too great to bear. Who's to say that Archangel wouldn't try the same? His healing factor may make that more difficult, but Sukja was certain Archangel could find ways to end his life if he wanted.

In comparison to most previous bedmates, Archangel's lost was greater in many respects. No prior bedmate had come from significant wealth and power. No other bedmate had been a warrior. No previous companion was born to fly free. To lie willingly beneath the person who had taken all that to protect your world would be incredibly difficult. To do so against your sexual proclivity must be unbearable. Sukja's heart ached in empathy at depth of anguish Archangel endured.

Sukja pulled himself up short. Was he getting too emotionally vested in Archangel to remain objective and do what his Emperor required? 'Need to regain my perspective and detach. Ztar needs this to work – he needs Archangel to come through intact. Focus, attendant!'

"Archangel, I will leave if you wish, but not before you hear what I have to say," he paused and observed a flicker of irritation cross the tired features. "I am saddened you're in this situation and wish you were still on Earth and oblivious to us. Ztar will not release you – that is a reality I cannot change. But together, you and I can help make life more bearable if you let me help. The Emperor _does_ regret his actions today…that is a hopeful sign." Sukja let that sit for a few seconds as he studied the reaction.

Warren listened. If Sukja believed for one moment that he'd buy the 'I'm on your side' crap, he was delusional. No one was on his side in the sordid affair – not Xavier, not the Shi'ar, not Earth's leaders, and certainly not Sukja. He was alone, sold out, and forgotten.

"Life will improve, Archangel. Don't give up," Sukja knew how trite that sounded as soon as he spoke, but it had been said. Perhaps the words would cause a different reaction, something equally useful – anger.

Warren had had enough. 'Life will improve – how ludicrous!' The only way it would improve was if he escaped. That, too, was prohibited by the Accord or he'd forfeit Earth. Warren gathered himself up for one final say and then the conversation was over whether Sukja liked it or not.

"Let me make sure I understand you. I've been forcibly taken from my home. Life as I knew it is gone. The man responsible rapes me every night and I must allow it to keep Earth safe. When he's angry about something that has nothing to do with me, I take the abuse. Again, I must allow it to keep my world safe. You say he's trying to control his temper, but there may be slipups. These slipups I should expect and accept because he's changing. And because he's changing, albeit slowly, my life as a slave will improve in some undefined way. Do I have it right?" Warren asked with disdain.

Sukja winced at the trueness of the blunt summation. Perhaps it was time for a different approach, but Sukja wasn't sure any approach would work at that moment. It _was_ a hopeless situation from Archangel's perspective. There was no brighter side to find. Enslavement was enslavement. Nothing Sukja could promise would change that. He sighed audibly.

"You have it right. I'm sorry. I wish it were not so, but it is. How you choose to survive your circumstance, though, is entirely up to you. You can wallow in despair and hopelessness or choose another less self-destructive course. It is my fervent hope that you choose the latter," he said with frankness he'd rarely used with bedmates. Archangel was not an ordinary companion. He was no fool, no pushover; not a commoner…the Human was a seasoned warrior and a man of wealth and influence. Sukja kept coming back to the same conclusion – honesty was the best tactic.

"I will deal with my circumstance in my own way. I will not be manipulated into conforming to what you and Ztar find more desirable. If I choose to wallow in despair, that is my right. I don't give a rat's ass if you two find that less than acceptable. Don't worry, I won't do anything rash – I understand the ramifications all too well. Ztar can have my body, but I saw nothing in the Accord about my mind. Unless there's some clause I missed…"

Sukja shook his head and set his glass down. "No, there's nothing about your mind. I only hope that you will decide not to add to your misery by holding onto emotions that only cause more pain."

He glared at the man who presumed to tell him how to feel. Conversation over. "I told you once to leave, I won't tell you again," he warned as he rose. Walking to the door, he palmed the control and the door slid aside.

Sukja got up and headed to the exit feeling he had failed his Emperor. He had failed Archangel, as well. He would keep trying, just not anymore that day. The Human needed time. Sukja, though, would monitor closely to ensure the man did not bring harm to himself. Archangel had clearly moved past the anger stage to slide toward depression. It was the most critical time for new bedmates. Sadly, some could not be pulled from depression's grip.

"Just know that friends can sometimes be found amongst the enemy," he offered as he slipped past Archangel into the corridor. The door slid shut in his face.

###

Once Sukja was gone, Warren returned to the window seat to stare out his prison window at the star trails.

'The signs are all there, Warren ol' boy. You're slipping into depression. Been there, done that. Not fun. Justifiable, yes. Unavoidable, perhaps. But do you need to descend so willing?'

He leaned back into the corner against the plumped up pillows and closed his eyes. Sukja was right about one thing, how Warren decided to deal with the miserable hand life had dealt was up to him. He could allow it to destroy him – allow Ztar to destroy him.

'Is that what you want?' he asked of himself. 'Everything's gone – true. But you're alive. And where there's life, there's hope. You've always said you believe that. Is that a belief held only when it's easy?' The answer to the question was no. He had held it during and after Apocalypse, after all. He reopened his eyes and looked out into the vastness of space. The universe was a wondrous place and it was spread out before him. So much to discover and learn. That could be a bright spot in all the blackness of his new existence.

'This will be another test of your convictions, flyboy. If you can hang onto hope in the midst of this, it will show the strength of your belief. That means not giving in to despair. Do you have the guts, rich boy? Have you got what it takes? If you're going to stop the slide into despair, it needs to happen now. Today! Before it gets a foothold. Make your decision, Worthington.'

But depression and insanity held their appeals. Depression could lead to complete uncaring. It could free him from giving a shit about Earth and thus release him from the self-imposed power Ztar had over him. The option was also frightening – depression's influence could enslave or kill millions should Warren disobey Ztar to the point of retaliation.

Insanity. While it may lead to blissful separation from reality, it also carried the risk of Earth getting hurt in the end from his actions.

Then he needed to consider that Ztar was a powerful telepath, more than capable of controlling him mentally. Neither depression nor insanity would shield him from that. Warren had no doubt that if he became too volatile or unpredictable, Ztar would use telepathic control. So when all was said and done, Warren would be either depressed or insane and Ztar would take control of his mind to force obedience. What would he gain? Oblivion at best. What would he lose? His mind and Earth. And Ztar would likely still have exactly what he wanted – him in bed.

When he looked at it logically, there really was no decision to be made. Warren pulled his knees up close, leaned his forehead on them, and wrapped himself in white softness. He needed to shake off the looming despair and he needed to do it quickly. 'Find the strength that brought you back from the abyss after that third night. Find the determination that freed you from Apocalypse's clutches.' Reaching down deep, he sought the courage and will that had made him a survivor. Bruised and battered, yes; but a survivor none the less.

'Ztar will not destroy me! I won't give him that power. Not now, not ever!' Warren promised himself. 'He can molest, abuse, torment me all he wants. He can keep me locked in this tin can, but I refuse to give up. Where there's life, there's hope. Period. I believe that. There's hope – always hope!' He put as much feeling into his pep talk as he could muster.

He felt the strength and power just below the surface. "You can do it, Worthington," he encouraged inside the cocoon. 'You can survive this hell. All you have to do is decide. Be of iron will. Others have tried to destroy you and look how far they got. You're still here. You're still sane. Don't let Ztar be the one that succeeds where no one else did!' Tears of determination trickled down.

Warren opened his feathery cocoon and looked at the stars. "Damn Ztar! Damn Sukja! Damn the Turzent Empire! I'm stronger than any of you. You'll see just how tough we Humans are."

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to ease the tension. "I swear to you, God, that Ztar will not destroy me. I will not give him that power. I'll survive – beat them at their games, you'll see," he vowed to the heavens. Strength poured through him with the words. He felt empowered. It was even better than the power anger had given him. It was from stronger stuff. It was power built from the strength of his soul.

"You can control my body and my mind, Ztar, but you can't touch my soul, you bastard. You lose!" he declared to the vastness of space.

###

Sukja watched Archangel over the chamber monitor with astonishment. He had not anticipated the turn of mood. Ztar was apparently right all those weeks ago. Archangel had amazing psychological strength. Sukja took no credit for what he witnessed. It was all the Human's own doing. Admiration filled him. Perhaps Archangel's spirit would triumph after all.

"Good for you, Archangel!" he said to the monitor smiling.

###

_A/N: Thank you for reading C15! Any and all feedback is welcomed with open arms! Even just a quick note saying you're enjoying the story will brighten my day. So many of you out there reading – would love to hear from everyone._

_X-X-X-X_

_Below is what I mentioned at the top of the chapter for those interested._

_ArtistOfLight raised a point in her Chapter 13/14 review about Ztar thanking his gods for Warren, while at the same time, treating him horribly. It didn't seem right to her. She wanted to know more about these gods. Ask and you shall receive…_

_A little background first. Sat'reyan religion says that the planet itself is the head god (think Gaia variant) and the other gods (like the gods of the wind, land, rain, etc) are lesser gods, but the ones that believers have a day-to-day relationship with. For those of you who have read/will read "Esserru," during the H'ton Me Rzyr ceremony in that book, you get a glimpse of that hierarchy in Ztar's 'calling of the rains' invocation. It is these lesser gods that Ztar is always thanking in Sacrifice and the subsequent books. _

_The gods of Sat'rey are benevolent, just as Sat'rey's native people are. Yet Ztar is Turzent, not Sat'reyan (though he was born and raised on Sat'rey). His assimilated belief in the Sat'reyan gods is combined with ancestral belief in Turzent war gods he got from his family. _

_Turzents are a warrior race. Their deities are pretty much opposite Sat'reyan – 'might makes right' would be the hallmark of Turzent gods. When victory was theirs, Turzent conquerors believed the gods rewarded them through the spoils of war. They also firmly believed conquest over other peoples was their race's destiny and fully supported by their deities. _

_Ztar's blended belief system is part of the contradiction ArtistOfLight points out in Ztar's thanking his gods for blessing him with Warren. _

_Now a little more on how Ztar believes his treatment of Warren is justifiable – the other half of the contradiction._

_Ancient Turzent tradition says that a conqueror can take anyone from amongst the defeated as their bedmate – their right under the laws of conquest and part of that spoils of war reward system. Snatching one of the conquered as a companion often meant Turzent emperors/empresses had very unwilling bedmates. Pretty much the same thing happened in the olden days on Earth when the victors of war/battle would pillage and rape. However, in Turzent rules of honorable conquest, only the victorious ruler or battle general could take a companion from the defeated peoples. Honor did not allow for lesser warriors to do likewise. Time eventually evolved that tradition to where only the emperor and empress could claim someone as a companion at anytime, war victory or not; willing or otherwise. _

_While the Sat'reyan gods would likely not approve of Ztar's behavior toward his companions, the war gods of Turzent would see nothing wrong with it. However, it's the blackness in Ztar's soul that drives him to his particular brand of mistreatment, not necessarily Turzent tradition; although forced sex with unwilling royal bedmates is not rape in Turzent morals/law. Companions are there to serve and submit in any manner the emperor/empress demands. The Turzent/Earth Accord actually put that tradition into words and, as we know, Ztar uses that document to force Warren's full compliance – Ztar was not about to take chances that Warren (a warrior in Ztar's mind) would fight against his role. _

_When I wrote Sacrifice both originally and now with this revamp, I had a lot of the above in the back of my mind, but didn't go into detail in the story and simply left readers to fill in their own explanation if they cared to. I felt understanding the "thank the gods" idiosyncrasy in Ztar wasn't crucial to the story. Since ArtistOfLight questioned the contradiction, it may have been the wrong decision, but the story is written, and I'll leave it alone at this point._

_Hope you found the bit of background interesting. See you next chapter!_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Just want to thank my loyal readers from several countries – Germany, Norway, Philippines, Poland, United Kingdom, and United States. You have stuck with me for every chapter and that makes me so very happy! My deepest appreciation. _

_I have all the final editing done for the remaining chapters and just might post them in quick succession – haven't decided for certain, but leaning that direction. After this installment, there are only five more to go. Still thinking about a bonus 22nd__ chapter that includes background information for the Turzent Empire – a historical timeline and the planets/systems that make up the realm. Need to make a final decision on that, as well._

_On to the story. Chapter 16 jumps ahead in time. So let's check in to see what has transpired. _

**Chapter 16**

**60 Days Later**

Weeks became months. Rescue did not come, validating Warren's decision to let go of that hope. While determination to not succumb to despair or depression held, Warren was still hurting deeply. He missed friends – their banter, the desperate battles to save someone or something or Earth itself, the camaraderie and joking and hanging out. He missed freedom and coffee. He longed to spend one more day at his Colorado aerie. He wanted to taste sushi and apple pie once again. Walk into the boardroom of Worthington Industries and announce another acquisition successfully negotiated. To fly yet again through Earth's atmosphere, to feel her unique magnetic signature, to breathe her crisp air, to feel the warmth of her sun on his wings. To sleep one full night alone in his own bed. So much he ached for, but it wasn't to be.

Lonely days spent in his room passed in torturous slow motion. Sukja still tried to join him for breakfast every other morning, but that ritual became hit or miss. Most days, his only companion was the PI. As much as that portal to the universe offered, it wasn't Human contact. Or even alien contact. The bright spot was learning sonji-mir with the procurement officer. But as often as de'Letnoir suggested or downright pushed Warren to make other acquaintances among the ship's crew, he had no desire to do so. Nothing against them; just too painful. He'd rather deal with the isolation than socialize with people who saw nothing wrong in his role as imperial whore. It felt unseemly and too much like acceptance of his forced-upon role.

If Warren had to name one thing that pushed him closest to the edge of insanity, it was the lack of purpose. Every other being on the Mi-Lartui had a reason to get up each morning. They had duties, responsibilities, something that made them feel productive. Warren's only purpose was to satisfy the Emperor's sex drive. A life that once represented so much was reduced to an existence solely to fulfill someone else's erotic fantasies. Thinking of his life in those terms was too much, and whenever his mind drifted to that summation, he shoved the thoughts down and buried the feelings with all the other garbage from the preceding months.

Instead, he focused on what little he did have. His sanity, by a thread. His mind; he thanked God that Ztar had ceased taking control of his mind at some point he couldn't pin down. Insatiable curiosity continued to propel distraction…the computer link to the imperial comnet allowed him to explore worlds and people and customs and cultures to his heart's content. He learned how to holo-project images into the room to immerse himself in a particularly fascinating locale or even within the grandeur of a nebula. His growing fluency in the official Turzent Empire language was his greatest accomplishment. The friendship with Officer de'Letnoir had grown, yet the barrier between crew and extended Royal Court was always present, and Warren held back as well, not wanting to become too attached to anyone.

Most of all, Warren had his time in the air that helped him hang on. The side trips for his benefit to different planets were the highlight of his life. He relished them and anticipated each one with enthusiasm. He allowed himself that enthusiasm as reward for surviving another week, another month. Each time Ztar agreed to a stopover, his soul sang. Sometimes, Ztar would surprise him with an unexpected side trip. And it almost seemed that Ztar took pleasure in those announcements, if Warren was honest. Perhaps Sukja had been right – the man was slowly changing.

He and Ztar had fallen into a routine. Ztar was less volatile, more stable, and less brutish. Warren finally felt he could predict what Ztar wanted. At least the anxiety had eased in that respect. Warren still suffered from stress as the continuous shedding of feathers proved, but at least the feathers also grew back in. It was like an ongoing molt. Warren knew that happened sometimes to captive birds that were highly stressed. And he was a captive bird. And stress? That was a given.

The molting required a certain level of preening to ensure he could continue to fly. And so Warren did what he must, but no more. Yet the minimal attention to his feathered appendages was clearly evident in their shabby appearance. They weren't the only thing that looked rundown. His overall appearance continued to suffer. Even to himself, he looked worn and haggard. He needed a haircut as his golden waves now hung well below his ears.

But at least he had stopped the weight loss. That had been a concern. After Ztar's angry episode with Warren on the floor, his determination to survive had strengthened, but belief that no rescue was forthcoming had stolen his appetite. With no fat on his body, any pounds shed meant muscle lost – not good. At least he was eating enough again to support his high-speed metabolism.

Despite everything he was dealing with personally, Warren could feel tension slowly, steadily increasing within Ztar over the weeks, almost imperceptibly so. It was more in retrospect that Warren noticed. Yet for the most part, Ztar's tension had not translated into increased aggression in bed, much to Warren's relief. On the contrary, Ztar seemed ever more in control of his vacillating emotions since the episode when he summoned Warren from ship's stores. As bad as that had been, Warren believed good came of it.

Sukja also seemed more on edge, though he did not share with Warren why. And Warren had made a conscious decision not to press with questions. He believed if he remained uninvolved, apart from whatever was causing the tensions, he would somehow be spared some of the undesirable side affects. Whether by instinct or luck, he was being proven correct.

###

As the weeks passed, Ztar was pleased that Archangel remained in self-imposed isolation. His companion was pure and untouched by the stresses on the Mi-Lartui and far beyond. The Human's chambers became a sanctuary. Only there could he leave the pressures and responsibilities of leading an Empire behind. Within those shielding walls, he could forget the constant poking and prodding of the Commonwealth that seemed hell-bent on forcing him to lash out. Aggravations of rule he shed temporarily on the other side of the door from his beautiful refuge.

The Commonwealth realm had become a constant source of exasperation. Meddling, instigation, thinly veiled threats, and orchestrated incidents meant to inflame had his entire Court on edge – from the head of Military Intelligence General Gtar-Cro to General Rehsaw of Military Command, through his diplomatic arm led by Jharda Myrundra and the Empire's highest judicial voice, Stjarmas'de. Even his finance minister Yramma e'Troz was affected. No one was left untouched and the fundamental question of 'why' had yet to be answered to Ztar's satisfaction. Dark forces were at work within the Commonwealth that eluded detection and whose motivates remained a mystery.

The Royal Court of Ztar was in solid agreement – they would not be manipulated into retaliatory actions or aggression. Defend their realm? Yes. Lash out across its borders? No. War was to be avoided at all costs. Everyone would lose. Ztar was grateful each day that he and his heads of government were of like mind. And the five people he had raised to power along side himself were intensely loyal, as well. Ztar knew that without question – one of the benefits of being a powerful telepath. None was a "yes" person – that was not the kind of right hands an Emperor needed. If one of them had suggested a more aggressive path, Ztar would have listened with an open mind, but no one had. And so the Imperial Court stood firm and united. And as a united front, they bore the strain of an increasingly antagonistic neighbor and voices within their own realm that were beginning to say enough was enough.

In times such as those he currently faced, an Emperor needed somewhere to escape. As Ztar went to Archangel more and more as a safe haven, he realized his character was changing. The anger that had gripped his soul for so many years was harder to ignite. The bedchamber had become a place for sensual pleasures and peace, not a place for release of redirected anger and frustrations. He looked forward each day to the simple pleasures of the night where no generals expected decisions, no staff queried for direction, no Commonwealth nipped at his ankles. Archangel expected nothing from him; placed no demands. Just sensuality and fulfillment with the winged man in his arms awaited at the end of the tension-filled days.

It was the end of a particularly difficult day, when Ztar gently maneuvered over Archangel and began kissing tenderly, hands roving across the lean upper body. He gently bit Archangel's perfect lips and moved down to an ear lobe to suckle. Ztar breathed in deeply the scent of feather as he nuzzled the man's neck. Ztar loved their fragrance of animal and wildness and the open skies.

He moved back to Archangel's mouth and plunged in to taste its sweet warmth. Sliding hands over the muscular chest, he relished the firmness of the body pressed beneath him and smoothness of the ivory skin. Up to the shoulder, down the upper arm, he trailed a palm over every contour in sensual caresses. Leaving the arm, his hand found the soft underside of the wing spread wide across the bed. Burying deep amongst the feathers, he forced shorter pinions between his fingers; careful though to not break any of the delicate structures. Ztar would wager his Empire that no other single being offered so many intoxicating sensations in one package. Archangel inhaled sharply as Ztar tantalized all the right spots on the sensitive appendages.

Rising up, Ztar slid his hand off the wings, up ribs, across the taut abdomen, and down to his groin. Ztar was a skilled lover who could elicit arousal from even the most resistant of companions, and he held nothing back to that end. Archangel's body replied to Ztar's attentions, despite the attempt not to. Passion flared in Ztar…and something else. Something more tender and giving.

He rested a telepathic tendril in that tranquil place deep within Archangel's mind that kept him anchored. 'Don't lose control,' the Emperor reminded himself. He was becoming skilled in that area, he thought with some pride – with Archangel's unwitting help, of course.

The Human looked up at the Emperor, blue eyes reflecting the inner battle raging between mind and body. Ztar was bestowing pleasure, but the willful man was determined not to enjoy it, even while his body was betraying him. After all the weeks, Archangel still resisted in that regard. How Ztar wished that it was not so! If only Archangel would give in willingly that one little bit more, but he held onto that piece of himself so ferociously.

As Ztar continued caressing, mental tendrils learned what was giving the most delight. Guided by his nonphysical senses, Ztar's hands and mouth found all the erogenous points on Archangel's slender frame.

/ _Let me give you pleasure, my Archangel,_ / Ztar sent delicately. He longed for Archangel to want him, as impossible as that may be. He wouldn't stop trying, and continued the quest.

Softly, gently, Ztar educed ever more response from Archangel's body. Having coaxed a growing erection from his resistive bedmate, the Turzent was determined to maintain it. Kissing, licking, nuzzling up from groin to the sculpted abdomen, across the smooth expanse of chest, Ztar followed the subtle rises and valleys of muscle. Taking a nipple gently between his teeth, he was rewarded with a hiss from the Human. Empathic signals told him the sound was one of pleasure, but mixed with continued determination to deny it. With a silent sigh of disappointment, he pressed on.

Textural delights titillated as Ztar brushed lips along the rise of one wing until reaching its apex as the Turzent's own shaft swelled. When the white appendage that was spread invitingly across the sheet equally trembled and feathers ruffled, he knew he'd done well. Reaching back, he massaged the man's hardening shaft while darting his head lower to take the other nub into his mouth. Shudders and sharp inhale shook his companion and the feathers ruffled more, roughening the smooth underside of the wings. Accepting the irresistible invitation, Ztar's hand darted quickly to sink fingers in the soft depths of feather down.

Warren tried to resist – he really did, but his body ignored reason. Full-blown arousal gripped him fiercely, sending waves of sexual heat surging head to toe, wing tip to wing tip. Then when Ztar plied skilled fingers down through feathers to the sensitive skin beneath, he nearly cried out in pleasure. As senses spun wildly out of control, the small part of his rational brain that still functioned screamed its disgust. The man above was tormentor, rapist, kidnapper – the sadist that stripped everything from him, including his status as a sentient, free being. 'How dare you take pleasure in his touch!' he ridiculed his physical self. Sadly, the reprimand did nothing to douse the lust-driven flames threatening to consume him.

He wanted to become one with his companion. To show Archangel how wonderful it could be. With the stealth that was his hallmark, Ztar supplemented the physical with mental, immersing himself telepathically in man's mind, gently pushing aside the conflict that was attempting to block the arousal Ztar was deftly deepening. He'd do no more than that – no overt control, just suppression.

Once Ztar masked Archangel's natural aversion to being with another male and his loathing of Ztar, Archangel was free to respond in ways he would not have normally. For the first time, Archangel kissed back without prompting. That little action inflamed desire, yet rather than taking pleasure, Ztar sought to give more instead. Guided by their mental link, he gave whatever was needed to further Archangel's fervor. Ztar reveled in sensations he was eliciting, savoring them vicariously as carnal lust exploded within the winged man.

Warren grasped Ztar's mouth with a sexual fire he hadn't known he possessed. One last lucid thought reminded him who it was stoking that blaze. Oddly, it no longer mattered. The incredible sensations coursing through him blocked the caring. He simply wanted more. All the brakes were off. He suspected why, yet didn't care about that either. Warren pulled the alien to him in another demanding kiss. He wanted the alien's skilled hands everywhere over his body; wanted them to incinerate him in a firestorm of ecstasy.

The mind-numbing kaleidoscope of touch, taste, smell, want, and need was all consuming…shockwaves of pleasure pulsed through both men. The Turzent was driven to do more of whatever the Human wanted – his entire being laser-focused on a single goal – pleasuring Archangel. He devoured the man, but not the painful, uncaring way he'd done in the past. With firm control over his physical strength, Ztar inundated Archangel in the erotic, both tactilely and psychically.

Warren's body was an inferno! Breathing became almost impossible. His heart pounded. Hypersensitive nerves twitched in anticipation every time the alien's hand drew near the wings. The rest of his body trembled and quivered from carnal desire of an intensity he never knew existed. He was drowning in ecstasy and he let it take him willingly. And he wanted still more. Warren kissed, probed, caressed, and urged. Pleasurable heat became unbearably hot. Spontaneous combustion was a real possibility.

Then a different kind of spark fired somewhere deep within Warren, awakening in reply to the flood of sexual stimulation. Through lust's haze, he felt/sensed it coil up inside…everywhere, nowhere. Ztar? No, not mental – too physical. Delicious. Molten. He moaned as new bliss spread like a living, erotic fire…first licking his insides, and then spreading up through muscle and skin. It knew all the right spots to engulf; all the right places to flicker its exquisite flames. Part of his brain registered concern. Another part welcomed the flames – a knowing that the fiery energy was right and natural, calming fear. The energy enveloped him, consuming Warren in a fiery heaven so powerful he lost all sense of who and what he was. He no longer had a physical body – he was only euphoric, burning rapture.

Ztar reeled from the onslaught of sensations emanating from Archangel. The Human had gone from mere blinding lust to a level Ztar hadn't sensed before – like a sexual supernova. Logic screamed its warning, but it was too late as the wave engulfed him. He was rapt by a passion so complete that nothing else existed – not the ship, the chambers, the bed. Nothing but him, his Archangel, and indescribable ecstasy!

As euphoria poured through Ztar, the need to join in every conceivable way with his courtesan overrode any vestiges of concern. He melded with his companion, physically and mentally. Fire danced between their tightly pressed bodies.

Warren was vaguely aware that he had been penetrated, but was oblivious to pain. His body wanted to be taken – needed the sex to come to conclusion. And when Ztar thrust in and out, only waves of intense, sexual satisfaction rolled through him. He welcomed the Emperor within him without caring how much torment he'd caused in the past. Nothing mattered except satisfying the need for physical union.

Time passed outside of Ztar and Warren until they were beyond endurance. When climax came, it was in unison and with a brilliance that blinded. Then slowly, the energy that had threatened to incinerate them faded. Two exhausted bodies lay curled together, unable to speak or move. Sleep descended quickly and deeply.

The Emperor was the first to wake, Archangel still wrapped in his arms. He brushed his hand across Archangel's forehead and through his golden hair, now matted from dried sweat.

'By the gods, what _was_ that?' he questioned as memories flooded back of the indescribable force that had taken control of them. The mere thought of it aroused him again. 'Never in my wildest fantasies had I imagined anything like that was possible!'

Thinking back, Ztar tried to piece together what happened. He recalled wanting nothing more than to give pleasure – not take it. When was the last time he had done that fully with any bedmate? Then with a mental start, Ztar realized he may have made _love_ to someone for the first time in many years. That hadn't been the case since he and his first and only love parted long ago. After that, lovemaking fell to the wayside. Once his lover left, every tryst was to scratch a sexual itch, gain illicit information from an unwitting liaison, or as a strategic ploy to move him to the next rung on the military ladder. Then came the augmentation, ushering in the long line of discarded bedmates and sexual frustration.

Two things came together to create whatever had happened with Archangel, the Emperor concluded. First, he hadn't sought self-gratification, instead had sought only to give intense pleasure. To that end, Ztar had telepathically swept aside the Human's aversions and hatred – the second factor. Suppression was something that in his selfishness, Ztar hadn't bothered with previously. The reward was beyond anything he had ever imagined was possible.

Gently probing Archangel's mind, he found nothing to suggest the man knew he was capable of such a feat. Another aspect of the earlier triggered ability? During the Trapia incident, there was nothing sexual involved; only peacefulness. 'Last night, though, was nothing but sexual ecstasy.' Ztar smiled knowing he had been the one to release the talent within the mutant. And once again, he wondered about the growing list of similarities between Archangel and the Esserru. Lore spoke of their ability to summon powerful energies that healed the soul and brought joy to body. The man lying next to him was doing both.

Glancing over at a clock, Ztar jolted to see it was mid morning. He had slept through the morning briefings and other tasks that should have been completed. Normally, that would have angered him, but looking down at a still sleeping Archangel, no anger materialized.

'So what that I overslept. I'm emperor.' Then he carefully slipped from the bed so as to not waken Archangel, but not before kissing his lover on the forehead.

###

Warren found waking up difficult – just couldn't shake off sleep in his usual quick fashion. Scooting to the edge of the bed, he rubbed his eyes trying to clear them and the dense fog in his brain. It was mid-morning; he'd slept way later than normal. 'What's wrong with me?' Without warning, memories and sensations from the previous night congealed. 'Oh my god, what did I _do?_'

Images of him and Ztar flashed by; the overwhelming and delirious sensations. Memories of burning desire and unbridled lust cascaded. Warren leaped off the bed and just made it to the toilet where he lost what little was in his stomach. He sat on the bathroom floor feeling woozy.

'How could I have done that? Shit! Maybe it's not real. Maybe Ztar put false memories in my head,' Warren tried to convince himself. "Ugh!" he grunted in disgusted disbelief, putting hands to temples. 'Stop kidding yourself, Worthington. Ztar may have worked his telepathy on you, but you did exactly what you remember.'

Sitting quietly for sometime, he retreated to the tranquility that had gotten him through the past months with some semblance of sanity. Breathing deeply and slowly, he calmed stomach and nerves. When he felt in more control, he decided to not think about it until he'd showered, dressed, and brewed his favorite tea, extra-strong.

Later, with tea in hand, he allowed thoughts to tiptoe cautiously back to the previous night. Stepping away emotionally, he examined the situation from a detached perspective. Ztar had definitely used some form of mind control, but it was nothing he'd experienced before. There had been an odd almost melting away sensation in his head, followed by a sudden loss of repulsion of the man assaulting him. Then he had felt almost drunk – no inhibitions or anything to put the brakes on. Yep, Ztar definitely had used some kind of telepathic influence.

Then there was the little matter of a strange, extremely erotic energy he recalled burning through him. Had that been Ztar's energy field Sukja told him about? 'No, that isn't right. It didn't feel like it came from Ztar…more like from inside me.' He remembered being aware something was happening, but at the time, he didn't care and wasn't afraid. Still, it was troubling. 'If that really came from me, what _was_ it?' Warren had no answers.

He considered how it felt – energy in the form of rapture or ecstasy was the only way he could even begin to describe it. And if he was remembering Ztar's reaction correctly, he was caught up in its power equally.

'If that is repeatable, Ztar is going to want more of it,' Warren groaned. The only positive was that instead of intense pain, there was intense pleasure. 'Be grateful for small things,' he told himself. 'But you better keep yourself in check next time, Worthington!' The self-warning was the end of the rehashing…too painful to keep playing over that he'd been a willing participant in his own rape. Then he expertly retreated from remorse and guilt on his accomplice behavior and shoved memories down deep, along with all the other buried recollections of the past long weeks. He would dwell on it no longer; he'd only end up torturing himself.

###

A few days later, Warren exited the Emperor's private galley with ingredients for an afternoon snack when he heard loud voices coming from the imperial deck conference room.

"What do you mean it is_ possible_ FTL research data was smuggled to the Commonwealth?" Ztar's bellow rang through the ship's corridor.

"My Emperor, there's no conclusive proof that is the case," a male voice implored.

Warren hesitated outside the open doorway, out of sight, curiosity piqued.

"Yet that is what General Gtar-Cro informs me has occurred! Are you telling me he is mistaken?"

"No, my Emperor! It's just that I've seen no direct evidence-"

Ztar cut the man off. "By whose incompetence, Officer Bjortyn?"

"We have several suspects, sire. My staff is working along side Military Intelligence to-"

"By whose hand has this occurred?" The Emperor demanded again.

'He knows something,' Warren believed instantly. He'd been around telepaths far too long not to recognize when a mind reader was giving you a chance to confess what they already had taken from you.

"We have not yet determined who the traitor is." A long pause followed and the tension was so tight even Warren found it hard to breathe. "Please, sire, allow us to determine with certainty. Naming names is premature. We require _proof_." Bjortyn's voice was unsteady.

"The Empire's most important research is now in the hands of our _enemy!_ That crime will not go unpunished!" Ztar roared.

"Emperor Ztar, I implore you to give us time to investigate. Perhaps the situation can be rectified…"

"You believe this is _rectifiable?_" Incredulous outrage bounced off the walls. "How by the gods would you do that? A technology that could help secure the safety of my empire is no longer ours alone. The traitor will pay for his crime, as will the incompetents who allowed it."

Ztar's voice had taken on a very ominous tone, actually frightening Warren. He could only image how terrified Bjortyn must be.

"_P-please_, my Emperor, give me a chance to find proof of who did this!" the man pleaded, the voice beginning to crack.

"I _see_ your proof, Office Bjortyn – it appears quite conclusive to me." Ztar's tone seethed with accusation.

"Proof? What proof?" the question was laced with rising panic.

"Do _not_ play me for a fool." The growled warning reverberated into the hall.

The other man suddenly yelped; then silence hung thick, followed moments later by what sounded like whimpers. Warren could only guess that Ztar was using his telepathy, perhaps revealing what he had taken from the officer's mind.

"M-my Emperor…please, mercy! I had no choice! They threatened me – my _family!_ I b-beg you!"

"_LIES!_"

Warren jumped and thought the ship actually shook with Ztar's roar.

"Lie upon lie! Do you still believe you can hide the truth from me? You committed treason for no other purpose than credits. You betrayed the people of Raisil, the people of the Empire...your Emperor for _credits!_ Your name will become synonymous with treachery. Sadly, it is your family who will live with the shame of your guilt!"

Warren felt it was a good time to slip quietly to his suite, but as he passed the doorway, he couldn't help a glance into the room. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Ztar shimmered like a mirage – some form of colorless distortion field surrounded him. A Raisilian that could only be Bjortyn was scrambling to his feet from the floor. The only other people Warren could see were two royal guards off to one side.

"Mercy! _P-please!_" the officer begged in a choked voice, backing away from Ztar, eyes wild with fear.

"Officer Bjortyn of Raisil Planetary Security, you have been found guilty of treason against the Turzent Empire and its Emperor. The sentence is death." The verdict was delivered with soul-chilling coldness.

The Emperor extended an arm toward Bjortyn and a wave of distortion shot from his hand and slammed into the other man, sending him flying across the room into the wall at incredible velocity with a sickening thud. The unfortunate Bjortyn slid to the floor, eyes open, but obviously lifeless to Warren's keen eyesight. 'So that is the energy field Sukja talked about weeks ago!'

Ztar's head snapped abruptly toward the door where Warren stood, rage dancing in his eyes. "Back to your chambers!" he bellowed.

Warren had no trouble obeying. Ztar did not visit Warren that night, nor did he see him the following day.

###

Ztar livid? A woefully inadequate description. Heads rolled as MI swiftly moved in with the information Ztar gained from Bjortyn's mind before he died. Within hours, the man's coconspirators were rounded up for imperial justice to deal with swiftly. Yet there was nothing to be done about the lost research data.

The Emperor wanted to lash out in retaliation – he was so very, very close. His Court and others watched carefully, he knew, waiting to see if the act of espionage would be the act that finally unsheathed his sword. Not often given to knee-jerk reactions, Ztar steadied himself despite anger's insistence on revenge.

As he contemplated his response in his ready room, Ztar reached out and found the singular Human mind on the Mi-Lartui and stealthy slipped in. Down deep, beyond conscious thought to that familiar still place. He floated in its tranquility and allowed the peacefulness soothe jagged nerves and cool the heat of his anger. After only a few moments, he knew what he must do and departed Archangel's psyche without the man ever knowing he was there.

'Seek to understand fully first, then decide your response,' he told himself. If they could still develop the technology ahead of Commonwealth scientists, then all was not lost. 'This may be the impetus to drive us harder to the goal,' he felt.

It was late in the evening when he sat down and commed the head of the project on Raisil, but it would be morning at the research facility. They had much to discuss.

###

Ztar never mentioned the Bjortyn affair, but that didn't surprise Warren. The monarch never discussed imperial matters and Warren didn't ask. Their tacit agreement to leave business at the chamber threshold was serving well and neither would risk those frustrations and angers hitching a ride inside Warren's isolated quarters again. Which was why Warren was surprised when Sukja came with an interesting request many days after the incident.

"May I enter?" he asked politely.

Warren stepped back to allow Sukja to pass. He knew immediately something was troubling the attendant.

"Let's sit," Sukja said as he walked to an overstuffed chair in the sitting area. Warren joined him.

"I come with a request. Tell me everything you know about your planet's relationship with the Shi'ar Empire."

The request was bewildering. Didn't Ztar already know all that? The Turzent's had had months to use their advanced technology to learn anything they desired about Earth. He asked as much of Sukja.

"There is information that is only available in the mind, not stored in computers or other records. It's that information I wish to learn."

"Ztar has access to everything I know."

"That is correct, but I do not."

Warren was confused. Sukja couldn't possibly be working behind Ztar's back because the telepath would know in a heartbeat. Whatever Sukja was up to, Warren doubted it was worth Ztar's wrath.

"This makes me uncomfortable," Warren said honestly. "I won't risk Ztar's anger if he did not asked you to do this."

"The Emperor did."

Warren shook his head in protest. "But why? It makes no sense."

Sukja sighed. He had anticipated resistance. "Archangel, if you must, ask Ztar. But put simply, Ztar wishes to keep what is between the two of you free of Imperial matters. He is quite insistent."

Warren wasn't convinced. It made no sense that the powerful telepath would not invade his mind for whatever information he wanted. "When I hear it that from the Ztar himself, then I will tell you what I know," Warren stood, ending the conversation.

"Very well. Comm me when you've had your discussion, but have that conversation today." And Sukja left.

That evening, lying together quietly in bed, Ztar asked Warren for an encore of the intense night they shared many nights earlier. He had concluded in the interim that the experience was too intense to repeat nightly, and Ztar hadn't tried to induce it since.

"I don't know if I can. That was something new. I don't know how it happened, let alone how to recreate it. I don't even know what 'it' is." Warren was truthful as lying to the telepath wasn't possible.

"Then we must do as we did that night and see what happens," Ztar followed with a tender kiss.

Warren looked at the Emperor, ready to read whatever he could in Ztar's expression. "One thing first. Sukja asked me for some information today about Earth and the Shi'ar…"

"My Archangel, it pleases me that you hesitated at Sukja's request, but he is acting on my behalf."

"But you can pull whatever I know directly from me." Warren remained mystified.

Ztar sat up and gently pulled Archangel into a sitting position. Then he looked directly into the blue eyes he could disappear into and not care.

"You are my escape from all that is the Empire…all the problems, crises, political maneuverings, and endless tasks, reports, meetings; from all the diplomatic intrigue, the constant strategizing. When I'm with you, I'm free from my worries, and suspicions, and the fear of knives in my back. Free from my anger and frustrations and those things that haunt me in the night." He placed a hand on either side of Archangel's shoulders. "You are my sanctuary – my lifeline to sanity. I will protect that at all costs."

Ztar sighed deeply and slid his hands down to Archangel's and held them. "I will not taint that by mixing it with Imperial business, even to the point of not probing your mind for what you know about Earth's political and military alliances." Ztar paused, gazing deeply into the blue depths of his companion's eyes. "Please tell Sukja what you know."

Warren looked at Ztar incredulously. '_Please?_' He projected, but Ztar did not acknowledge the thought. This was not the man he knew.

A salacious grin slid across the Turzent's features. "Now, my Archangel, let's see if we can conjure another special night."

The next day, Warren told Sukja what he could. He wanted to ask the whys and wherefores, but maintaining his separation from imperial problems was working to keep Ztar's aggressive side at bay and he wouldn't jeopardize that. And after all he had been through, Warren had a hard time coming up with a reason not to reveal everything he knew about the planet that had given him so easily to the enemy.

###

Seated in his ready room adjacent to the bridge, Ztar replayed the communiqué from the Commonwealth's diplomatic arm with disbelief. In essence, it was declaring that his Empire had encroached on Commonwealth charted space with the acquisition of the Earth System.

'This is entirely without credence!' A deep frown formed. Nothing had indicated prior Commonwealth presence in that system. Military Intelligence had investigated before the acquisition and found no evidence their neighbors had so much as vague interest in the region; not even an outpost within 30 light years of the isolated little star. Why the sudden declaration of intrusion? The only reason Ztar could fathom was the nearby warp-space portal.

The Shi'ar used the wormhole as one connection between the two galaxies. Had the Commonwealth learned of it and wanted to secure the portal to the Shi'ar for themselves? If the Shi'ar wished likewise, he couldn't really object. The Shi'ar were far too powerful for Ztar to tell them they were not allowed to establish ties with whomever they chose in the Mi-Tzanti Galaxy. The Shi'ar delegation made it clear during the Earth negotiations that the wormhole was their territory and unauthorized use of the intergalactic gateway would be considered an aggressive intrusion of their space.

Another thought. Was Earth, the Shi'ar, and the Commonwealth conspiring against him? Unless the Shi'ar had changed their stance since the Accord about freeing Earth, that theory made little sense. It was always possible Xavier had convinced their leaders to take action, but why go the indirect route? It would be far more efficient for the Shi'ar to act on their own and not involve the Commonwealth. If Earth wished to join the Commonwealth, it would be much less complicated if they did so after the Shi'ar had regained Earth's independence. Yet there had been no activity at the wormhole or communication detected through that portal since shortly after the Shi'ar departed, but it was technologically possible messages had gotten through that went undetected.

What seemed more likely was that Earth defied him and somehow enlisted Commonwealth aid to free itself from Turzent annexation. It was conceivable Earth used its relationship with the Shi'ar to entice Commonwealth leadership. An alliance with the powerful intergalactic realm may be enough incentive for them to claim jump the Earth System. Ztar began to boil at the idea of the possible defiant act, but held himself in check. Military Intelligence had made no mention of such a scheme in the many covert investigations into the recent unusual Commonwealth behavior.

Would Earth actually jeopardize its sovereignty by a risky action such as asking for Commonwealth intervention? Instinct told Ztar Earth had not broken the Accord. No, the Commonwealth's latest audacity fit into a pattern of increasing provocation for as yet undeclared motives. Before forming any conclusions, he'd order General Gtar-Cro to probe the specific matter. If MI did find Earth had indeed defied him, stern measures would be taken. Emperor Ztar did not abide defiance, especially when he had honored the Accord.

"After decades of tolerant co-existence, why is the Commonwealth being aggressive now?" he asked aloud to no one. "What has changed?" Again, a frustrating lack of answers despite MI's best efforts.

The two realms lived peacefully along side each other for years despite Ztar's expansionistic ways, mostly due to his insistence of being a non-threat to their realm. At the start of his rule, that decision had been born of self-preservation – the Commonwealth was far larger than the old Ta'oc Empire he took over. The ensuing expansion campaign of 15 years was focused away from Commonwealth territory. When his empire became as large and powerful as its neighbor, Ztar chose to maintain stable relations. Everyone benefited. Something had changed. Their peaceable neighbor laid claim to his outermost territory and was rattling swords. _Why?_ That was the bottom-line question.

'Do they really want war or just trying to see how far they can goad me? To what purpose are they pushing the limits of my tolerance?' Perplexing questions. The aggressive behavior made no sense. Ztar was missing a vital piece of information and it was maddening.

Then Ztar posed a question only he could answer. 'Where _is_ my line in the sand?' He rose from the desk and walked to the windows lining the room and gazed out. At times, he was still amazed at what he'd accomplished in less than 20 years. The Mi-Lartui could travel for weeks and not leave his realm. He and his skilled Court had more than doubled the size of the old Ta'oc Empire. Aside from the Commonwealth, they had yet to encounter another realm as large as his.

But as powerful as the Empire had become, was it ready for war against an equal enemy? Was _he_ ready if it came to that? Ztar had carefully and strategically expanded, favoring systems that brought immediate strength to the Empire rather than wasting resources on acquisitions of little short-term value. And most pre-FTL systems within imperial boundaries were unaware that they sat within a large galactic empire; their resources untapped. That was good and bad.

His ace-in-the-hole had been the FTL advancement. Faster, more powerful ships that used less energy would be a huge advantage in any war. Now that advantage may be lost. Bjortyn had stolen and sold the baseline research data, but thankfully, not the most recent refinements. Best to assume Commonwealth scientists had enough to work with and were driving hard to perfect the FLT drive enhancement ahead of the Empire. Who would win that race?

Ztar examined himself carefully – was he someone that could wage a successful war against an enemy of nearly identical capabilities and resources? Conquest of less advanced planets and star systems was easy. Of late, his skills as a military leader had not been greatly tested. The larger the Empire became, the easier the acquisitions. Of late, most systems simply bowed to his will and joined without struggle. Even those systems in the past that mounted a strong defense eventually fell to his Empire's greater strength and resources. Had easy victories made him less fit to lead now? Had he lost his edge from the early days?

The burdens of leadership rested heavily on Ztar's broad shoulders and he sighed under its weight. He believed the next few weeks would be a turning point in his life and for his Empire.

###

Though shielded from most of what was transpiring beyond deck two, Warren was growing more apprehensive. Ztar was distracted, sometimes Warren wondered if he was even in the same room with him at night. He played out all sorts of scenarios of what could possibly be weighing so heavily on the alien ruler. Why had Ztar wanted to know about the Shi'ar and Earth's relationship? Had the Shi'ar changed their minds about standing by his homeworld to wrest it free from the Turzents? He also had picked up bits and pieces of trouble with The Systems Commonwealth, but nothing specific. Not knowing was beginning to drive Warren crazy. Sukja was of no help; under orders from Ztar not to discuss the matter.

Warren's security clearance both on the computer and deck access had been curtailed – no newsfeeds had gotten through to his PI for some time. His self-imposed limits to the imperial level and stores had become bio-sig mandated. Knowing he could not leave those areas made the restriction far more difficult to accept. At least before, it was his _choice_. Now the choice had been taken from him. His prison had grown smaller.

Remaining true to his word, the Mi-Lartui continued to stop by planets suitable for Warren when need grew uncomfortable, even if for only a couple hours. Warren sensed the side trips were causing Ztar a great deal of inconvenience, though he never complained. When it came to keeping Warren happy in that regard, Ztar appeared to be doing what he could. For that much, Warren was grateful.

Ztar had come to spend the entire night with Warren on a frequent basis. Occasionally, they didn't have sex when Ztar was too tired. He merely held Warren in his arms and drifted to sleep. Such a change from the man who had taken pleasure in severely abusing him early on. For that, too, Warren was thankful.

'Now if someone would just tell me what the hell was going on beyond deck two!'

###

Eight standard days after declaring Ztar had intruded upon their territory, the Commonwealth severely tested Ztar again. Did they truly want war? No other explanation seemed plausible. He acquiesced the fringe territory named Verronkya System and realigned the buffer zone between the two realms. Strategically, the sector wasn't important and it puzzled Ztar and his military leaders as to why the Commonwealth desired the sector that included the two-planet, non-FTL star system in the first place. The only reasonable explanation was to incite.

His military had had enough and wanted to push back, but Ztar held General Rehsaw in check. It represented a break in the solidarity of his Court's stand against aggressive retaliation. Ztar stood firm – he would not be manipulated by the Commonwealth. Not over things of little value. The Emperor had always prided himself in recognizing what was truly worth fighting for and what was merely an illusion of importance, or only a case of wounded pride. Verronkya did not merit a war or even a skirmish. He would hold his resources in reserve for something worthy of that expenditure.

Once Rehsaw listened to Ztar's logic, he fell into line once again. The Royal Court must remain united, Ztar believed with every fiber of his being. Divisiveness could be their undoing.

As tension escalated between the Turzent Empire and the Systems Commonwealth, Ztar sought Archangel as refuge more and more. That asylum added strength and steadiness during the stress-filled days and weeks. On those days when military and intelligence reports were especially disturbing and Ztar's blood boiled, Archangel calmed him. With his companion, he could cast aside everything that burdened him for a few precious hours. Nighttime was for escape and pleasure instead of tactics and maneuverings. The Human anchored him to things important – the warmth of a familiar body next to yours; a calming presence when the universe was spiraling out of control. The Human reminded him of the preciousness of life and to not throw it away hastily. Ztar would not casually go into a war that would create so many cold, half-empty beds across his empire.

In his ruminations, he asked himself: when did he slip from using the Human only to satisfy sexual desires to needing him? Ztar couldn't find a specific turning point. It was gradual and happened without his knowledge or intent. It had happened without his consent.

Ztar was hard pressed to remember a time when he needed anyone. Much of his adult life was about using others to his own ends, especially after the genetic experiment that released his latent abilities.

Also new – the periodic pangs of sadness and guilt over his companion. In Archangel's mind, he had learned early on the significant events of his past; what he had been through and had endured. Ztar's probings had found the supermutant called Apocalypse, one in a line of people that had used or abused Archangel for their own gain. He found other people the man had trusted that betrayed him. He saw lovers murdered or nearly so. Ztar discovered others that had sought to use Archangel's wealth for their own twisted purposes.

As beautiful as Archangel was, Ztar also discovered long ago that the man did not feel so, inside or out. The Human believed he was a mockery of the icon his body resembled…the angel had fallen from pure and innocent. Ztar sensed the self-loathing that Archangel couldn't quite admit to himself. And the past several months, Ztar had added to it. The Emperor's desires were all that mattered in the beginning and the Human's body was a mere tool to that end. Yet another person who saw only what Archangel could provide. Ztar had taken what he wanted without care as to the cost to Archangel's psyche.

That was changing. Ztar was changing. While he would not abnegate Archangel, Ztar did wish to make his life as comfortable as possible. Brutal sex was a thing of the past…Ztar no longer desired it. Somewhere along the way, Archangel had doused that raging fire fueled by anger the Turzent could not name or find a singular source for.

And so it came to be that Ztar found himself needing a single individual so much it frightened him. Yet he found that fear almost comforting. Archangel was good for him. No one else, not one in his long line of bedmates, had ever come close to being that. It was new and he welcomed it.

###

Warren sat on the edge of a sheer cliff that rose several thousand feet above the valley floor. The wind whipping at him was hot even at that height. Jxpia was a dry, desolate world. Rusty-red sand dunes and jagged outcroppings stretched as far as Warren's remarkable eyesight could see. Bare-rock mountains jutted up on the opposite side of the valley, rising many thousands of feet. Dust devils swirled in several spots, kicking up red sand as they danced across the flat valley terrain. Even the air had a rusty haze. 'Kinda like Mars,' he mused.

From his perch, the world beneath looked barren and lifeless, but life was there in its smaller forms, Ztar had said. "It is the best I can do right now," Ztar had further explained when Warren said he needed some airtime.

Ztar had not accompanied him on the planet-side trip, as was his custom. Warren had up to five standard hours to savor his temporary freedom with no one watching. The shuttle pilots remained inside the craft, not wanting to endure the blowing sands. There was less of it the higher he flew, but sand still coated any exposed skin as he sweated, permeated his hair, and got into his ears and his eyes. Warren would be surprised if it hadn't penetrated his suit. It was going to be a bitch to get out of the feathers, but flying was worth the price. Jxpai's strong winds, heat, and thin air proved challenging, but he wasn't complaining. The added exertion actually felt good, but he needed a breather and the high perch above the valley was just the place.

While he cooled down as much as the heat would allow, Warren contemplated the subtle changes he was seeing in the Turzent. Anonymous tension had a fierce hold on Ztar, but it was not translating into their private interactions. In fact, the Emperor was treating Warren with consideration. The alien still got what he wanted in bed, but the angry, brutish side had nearly disappeared.

'Be grateful for small favors,' Warren told himself. He held out no hope that Ztar would release him anytime soon, so for now he'd take whatever improved treatment he could get. Then he let thoughts of Ztar go the way of the wind.

Sitting on the edge of an alien landscape, life back on Earth felt like a lifetime ago. Closing his eyes, he brought up images of the faces and places he cared about most. It was painful, but Warren felt the need to remember what they looked like, fearing he would forget as time passed. Images congealed of Charles, Hank, Scott, and the others that were god-only-knew how many light-years away. In his mind, he walked through his Long Island estate, the Colorado aerie, the NYC penthouse, and the X-mansion.

Then imaginings broadened and he remembered Earth itself. All the places he'd been to; places he knew well, and places he had only seen briefly. He focused on the one spot he loved most, his aerie. Nestled high in the Rockies, surrounded by wilderness and open skies. He soared with the eagles there. It was his special retreat – his sanctuary. Or at least it was. He pushed the reminiscing aside when the memories became too hurtful. 'Don't dwell.'

Ztar intruded into his contemplations once again. The man who had taken all those things from him. The man Warren hated more than he felt it was possible to hate. The man he had to lie willingly beneath each night, talk to civilly, obey without protest – or without a lot of protest, anyway. Warren did voice his discontent on a few occasions, and at the time, it seemed to have gotten him nowhere. Only in hindsight did it become obvious Ztar had been changing. Whether the transformation was due to anything Warren had said or done, because of Sukja's supposed influence, or from some change Ztar himself initiated, Warren could not know. In a life where he had nothing and could expect little, Warren would take the improved treatment regardless of the impetus.

Whatever was the cause, Ztar was becoming gentler, less obsessed with his own sexual needs, and not as self-absorbed. The alien actually tried to make things pleasant in bed for Warren, as if that was possible. "It's still rape, bastard!" Warren declared with sudden fire into the hot Jxpai wind. 'Coerced sex – whether I fight back or not, regardless that Ztar attempts to make it pleasurable – is still rape.'

Yet the attitude shift in his captor was encouraging. Perhaps if he accepted the changes with gratitude, Ztar would continue to soften. With no other options, that may be the only path with any hope of leading to ultimate release. 'The chances are remote, flyboy, practically nil, but anything is possible,' he encouraged himself. 'Where there's life, there's hope – remember that.'

Still, accepting anything about Ztar with gratitude would be difficult, if not impossible. 'Worth a try, though. But it will be between me and I only. Hell could freeze over and shatter like ice before I think or say even one word of thanks to the bastard!' Warren gave himself that much latitude.

Sparking with anger, he hurtled himself off the cliff and into the arid air of Jxpai. There was still another couple hours of glorious freedom to enjoy.

###

_A/N: There you have it! Would love to hear from anyone willing to do so. It's endlessly interesting to hear different viewpoints and reactions._

_Until next time, everyone!_


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: A quick public thank you for my faithful ArtistofLight! You're always right there to keep me going. _

_Another chapter quickly on the heels of the previous. Major turning point in the story begins here. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 17**

What starts an interstellar war? A significant, isolated event? Or is it a delayed reaction to a series of events that long ago set the mechanisms of war into motion?

In the case of the war declared by the Commonwealth upon the Empire, the final event was Ztar's refusal to surrender the Earth System. The Turzent Empire was at war with The Systems Commonwealth over a pre-FTL planet that had little to offer. Not a shred of evidence pointed to any misconduct by the Humans in contacting the Commonwealth, nor was Shi'ar involvement uncovered. All indicators said the matter was simply a contrived situation to prod Ztar into hostilities.

Emperor Ztar didn't want war. He had sent diplomats to the Commonwealth only to be turned away at the door. He invited Commonwealth diplomats to his throneworld, Sat'rey, for negotiations, only to have the invitation tersely declined. Surrender Earth System – that was the nonnegotiable term. Somehow, the Commonwealth had finally discovered his line in the sand and they crossed it. Ztar knew he was being manipulated, but that knowledge would not change his decision.

He would not turn over Archangel's homeworld to the Commonwealth for many reasons. He would not be played like a sonji-mir piece. He would not be poked, prodded, or tested by them any more. He would not be treated like a savage at the door of the civilized, as were his diplomats. He would not have his FTL advancement stolen from him and sit idly by. The Commonwealth would pay for their long list of offenses against his Empire – against him. If they wanted war, so be it.

_But,_ the Turzent Empire would not be the declarer of open hostilities – he would not give the enemy that satisfaction. And, if they wished to fight, the Commonwealth would need to bring the battle to him. The Empire would not chase the enemy. Its Emperor would keep their ships and forces where they were strongest.

Commonwealth leaders sent one final subspace message. "The matter of the Earth System is not negotiable. Remove your presence from that sector immediately. Noncompliance will be an act of war. There will be no further warnings." His return communiqué simply said, "No."

The Commonwealth had its rally point. They took the step Ztar was unwilling to take. And the little backwater world called Earth had no idea that it was the final domino to fall in a series of events that led to the declaration of war.

###

Whatever it was, Warren knew it was bad just from the expression on man as he entered. Ztar went directly to Warren's sitting area.

"There is something you need to know, my Archangel, though it pains me to have to tell you." Ztar's voice was filled with sadness, as Warren sat down across from him. "Our lives will be changing. I can no longer guarantee side trips for your benefit and you have a right to know why. The Empire is at war with the Commonwealth."

Warren's heart sank. War! The cost in lives, suffering, resources, and emotional toll would be incalculable. It explained the rising tensions he had felt in the ruler the past weeks.

Ztar went on to share only the broadest of information with Warren. "As for the side trips, I am truly sorry, my Archangel. I will do what I can when I can – that is all I am able to promise."

"There was no way to prevent war?"

"The Commonwealth declared war and left me with few alternatives. At present, I see no option but to respond. This is not a war of my choosing – they forced it upon me. I assure you, at every opportunity I will seek to end it by diplomacy. War is not justified. It was manipulated into being for reasons as yet unknown. Regardless of the reason, I will defend my Empire at all costs." Ztar looked and sounded exhausted.

"I am sorry, Ztar," and Warren meant it. Then, "What of Earth?"

"I cannot say. Earth is at the extreme limits of Turzent space. That is a difficult position to hold. We have already sent word to the Shi'ar Empire through your Charles Xavier. We hope they will assist your world should it come to that. If we lose that sector of space, Earth will need to decide whether to become part of the Commonwealth or remain independent and neutral with the protection of the Shi'ar."

"That's why Sukja asked me questions about Earth's relationship with the Shi'ar."

Ztar nodded. "I am doing what I can to protect your homeworld."

Warren stood up. "You look like you could use a drink." When Ztar did not object, Warren poured two glasses of Dison. As he handed the glass to Ztar, Warren considered what he was about to do – have a drink with his own personal enemy. Later, after Warren had managed to coax out more details and Ztar had left, Warren felt in the simple act of sharing a drink in the face of war, he and the alien ruler turned some kind of corner.

###

**Several Weeks Later**

Time dragged endlessly. Ztar's cruiser moved constantly, never to dally long enough to become a target. The Mi-Lartui darted from one skirmish to another, from hot spot to hot spot, one rendezvous to the next. It had been weeks since hostilities began and Warren's last foray into the sky. The longing was constant. His soul would not let him forget it was being neglected. Aching need tugged and pulled and ate at him relentlessly.

From beneath the Emperor, he looked into the deep brown eyes that were still smoldering with the heat of the desire he had just quenched. But now _his_ desire needed attention, and it had nothing to do with sex.

"Ztar, can we stop? I-I need to get out of here for a while," Warren prayed Ztar could manage it. Each of the previous times he'd asked, Ztar had regretfully denied the request or was simply unable to.

Ztar gently stroked the outstretched wing, the intense craving for the sky penetrating to his own soul through their empathic connection. The need was so great! Crystalline-blue eyes reflected hope that he would provide relief from its gnawing. Ztar hated the words that came next.

"I'm sorry, my Archangel," his voice barely above a whisper. "We're heading to the Phagiulu System and can't delay. Things go badly there."

Warren closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He fought back the anguish that had manifested to actual physical pain. His wings ached continuously in want to caress the wind. Maybe if Ztar better understood. He was not above begging anymore. Reopening his eyes, he locked onto Ztar's dark orbs.

"P-please, Ztar. Just a couple hours – an hour even! I'm going crazy – we need to stop, _please._ I-I have to have my airtime – don't you understand?" Tears formed with the words that came from his soul. An hour or two? Was it too much to ask?

The plaintive voice and sensations filling the link tore at Ztar's heart. His companion was so desperate, but Ztar could do little to ease the distress, at least not immediately.

"I _do_ understand. I feel your need," Ztar replied, brushing his hand across Archangel's forehead. "If only it would be only an hour or two, I would stop for you. There no suitable planets between here and Phagiulu. We'd have to divert at least two days to find such a world. We don't have even a few hours." Ztar sat up and leaned back against the headboard and watched as his companion rise up to face him.

War was raging, and Warren had tried not to be selfish and nag on the man, but he was at the end of his rope. Claustrophobia was crushing him, need for the embrace of blue firmament was tearing him apart from within. "Maybe when we get to Phagiulu. When things are under control there." Warren suggested in desperate hope.

"Phagiulu is a resource system, staffed by mining and support crews in controlled habitats. The system has no life-supporting planets."

Warren's hope was crushed, just as it had been trampled so many times these past agonizing weeks. 'Can't live like this anymore! Losing my mind!' He let the tears come not caring if Ztar saw – he was the cause. Ztar and the damn war. Why had the heavens plotted against him to not only cause his enslavement, but to orchestrate slow torture?

Ztar pulled Archangel into his arms and held him close, stroking a wing in an effort to soothe. "Forgive me, my Archangel. We'll stop as soon as I can manage it, I vow to you. Just hold on," he whispered into the golden hair, his throat tight with emotion. He prayed it was a promise he could keep.

###

Ztar's on-scene commander commed a situation report regularly to the Mi-Lartui as the Emperor and his contingent raced to the Phagiulu System. When communications from Commander Jryzkenri ceased, the Emperor feared the worst. Jryzkenri was a battled-hardened, skilled leader. It was why Ztar and his top general had entrusted that sector of space to the woman. Not only did Sector 10 include Phagiulu System, but one of its neighbors was the even more critical Sector 11, Zramynian System.

The resource system itself was important. Rich in many of the raw materials required for everything from high-tech devices to everyday household products, it helped sustain the basis of modern living. The more strategically important Zramynian System held deep deposits of an element that when blended with other ingredients made an incredibly strong but lightweight synth-metal used to build and repair starship hulls.

Ztar would not let the Commonwealth have Phagiulu.

As soon as word came that Phagiulu was under attack, the military dispatched reinforcements, but would they arrive in time? Jryzkenri's communications indicated that the Commonwealth arrived with a fleet and were waging a fierce offensive. While Imperial forces were significant, they were split between defending surface operations and the general sector. Push come to shove, Jryzkenri was ordered to sacrifice planet-side installations to hold the sector. Those facilities could be rebuilt, but if the sector was lost, the Commonwealth would gain a key military stepping-stone. Jryzkenri's last communication indicated she was pulling their forces from surface defense.

Ztar had anticipated the Commonwealth may try coming in the side door to Zramynia and he had been proven right. With his cruiser heading to the battle line, Ztar moved the sonji-mir pieces of strategy in his mind. The battle line would be drawn at Phagiulu.

In the tactical ops room off the bridge, he brought up the last holo-image replay of the battle sent by Commander Jryzkenri. Ztar saw only one defensive move he would have done differently. Frustratingly, the information was hours old. What was happening now? Were communications simply being blocked or had Jryzkenri already lost?

"Damn the gods!" Ztar said in exasperation to the outdated holo-image and his ship's captain.

Mi-Lartui's skipper stood across the strategy table from the Emperor. Captain Yels was full-blooded Turzent, same as Ztar. In fact, their families' ancestral roots were in the same homeworld in the Ta'oc System. While the captain stood more than a head shorter than Ztar, he was nonetheless an imposing figure even by Turzent standards. Their species was a tough breed and it showed in their physique. Nature provided them with a powerful body that could take a lot of abuse and keep going. With redundant vital organs and a skeletal structure not easily broken, they were designed to be warriors. The history of the Ta'oc System worlds reflected that design – a past filled with war and conquest, emperors and challengers. That history now included its greatest conqueror of all – Ztar. And their greatest conqueror faced his greatest challenger – The Systems Commonwealth.

"Still no word from Commander Jryzkenri?" he asked, but knew if there had been, he would have been told instantly.

"No, sir."

Ztar hated being blind. The Commonwealth had taken out the nearby sensor stations early in their offensive. The one that remained was too far away to provide anything but non-specific readings of weapons fire.

Ztar was still far outside of his telepathic range and would be until they entered the Phagiulu System. Unlike what some believed or speculated, telepathy had its distance limits. Ztar never revealed his exact range to anyone, preferring to keep that information secret. If the commander was still alive, Ztar may be able to establish contact after entering the system. Even knowing Jryzkenri's unique mental signature, it would be a stretch for Ztar unless they got closer to the fighting than Yels was likely going to feel comfortable doing.

"Bring up sector scans."

Yels added real-time sensor readings to the holo-image. The image instantly displayed weapons fire the remote sensor detected. Pinpricks of light revealed the locations of weapons hits and thus ships. Skirmishes were scattered in three areas in the system, each a strategic point. Whether it was Jryzkenri in command or someone else, they were defending exactly the positions Ztar would choose.

"Our ETA?"

"14.25," Yels replied. The arrival time had not changed since Ztar last asked. It was more a question from habit than from believing the ETA would have changed. Space travel was an exact science and unless something interrupted your flight, times were precise.

It was 12.5, the time reinforcements were due to arrive. They should start to see additional weapons signature.

"By the Gods, I want to be there!" Ztar said mostly to himself.

"Understood, my Emperor. We will be soon," Yels responded.

Other than Ztar's tactical input, there was little left to be done on the Mi-Lartui. She and her crew stood battle ready and prepared to defend their empire and her ruler. However, the simple fact that she was the Imperial flagship meant the chances of her coming even close to the battle were remote. Mi-Lartui would watch from a relatively safe distance, surrounded by the finest escort ships the Empire offered. The mere presence of their Emperor would hopefully inspire those that were putting their lives on the line to protect the system. Ztar would observe and provide input only if he saw his forces making a mistake in judgment or strategy.

Ztar prided himself in selecting the finest, most capable individuals to hold key positions in his military. He trusted them to do their jobs well and he stayed out of their way so they could do just that. The leadership style served him well. Not only did he gain from their competency and expertise, but by giving them the authority and autonomy to perform, he gained their loyalty and trust.

He never promoted anyone who did not keep the bigger picture in mind at all times. Short-term gains at the price of long-term goals were unacceptable. In fact, Ztar often employed the opposite – short-term losses in favor of long-term benefits. That philosophy worked on many levels.

Reckless decisions based on injured pride were also never tolerated – not in Ztar himself or those who reported to him. The Empire and its people came first and foremost. That steadiness devoid of prideful, knee-jerk reactions had kept him from a much sooner war with the Commonwealth in spite of their prodding and maneuvering. And finally, the Commonwealth found themselves having to do what they failed to goad Ztar into doing – declaring war.

Yet in the end, despite all Ztar's attempts to avoid military conflict, it was upon him. Phagiulu was its first significant battle and he wanted to be there. Retention of the system was important long-term as a buffer to the strategically vital Zramynian System. All the skirmishes and scuffles to date were little more than exercises on both sides to assess capabilities and battle styles. No chunks of space of critical value had been at risk.

'Let the games of war begin in earnest,' he thought to himself as he dismissed Yels to return to the bridge. He watched as additional pinpricks of light began twinkling in the holo-image. Imperial reinforcements were likely on the scene. Of course, the additional activity could mean more Commonwealth forces had arrived as well. Likely, no communications would come until his forces took out whatever was disrupting communications, and that was almost certainly the Commonwealth battle carrier.

Ztar sat quietly, playing out various scenarios in his mind from what they knew of the battle. Moving game pieces in his mind, he tried many defensive and offensive maneuvers, discarding those that failed, keeping those with promise. Yet his strategizing was of little value other than to occupy his mind as current information was minimal and most data hours old.

At 13:00, Ztar emerged from tactical ops. "I will return by 14:15," he told the Captain, stepping into the elevator. One deck down, he headed to Sukja's chambers.

Sukja knew Ztar was tense the moment the Emperor passed through the doorway. "My Emperor," he greeted, fearing that the news from Phagiulu was not good.

"Still no contact with our forces in Phagiulu. Until either communication is restored or we get within sensor range, we do not know what we'll be facing. You should be prepared."

Sukja knew the Mi-Lartui would not enter into battle unless there was no choice or she was attacked directly. The Emperor was too valuable to risk without overwhelming cause. Knowing his Emperor, though, Sukja wondered if he'd force the Captain Yels to engage the enemy. Ztar was as skilled a warrior as he was a tactician. The lure of battle may be too strong to resist.

"What is Mi-Lartui's role?" Sukja inquired with some trepidation.

Ztar walked to the windows and stared out. Reaching into the vastness with his mind, he felt nothing – no life, no minds. The emptiness was soothing. Space was so vast; it humbled him. He felt small and insignificant against it.

"I will not risk this ship or her crew needlessly no matter how much I wish to…kick butt as Archangel would put it." Ztar smiled at that. He'd pulled the phrase from the Human's mind quite some time ago, liked it, and held it for an appropriate moment. And kick butt was exactly what he wanted to do right now to the Commonwealth.

"You should go to Archangel, my Emperor, before we arrive," Sukja advised, changing the subject. "Mi-Lartui is ready for whatever comes. There is nothing left to do before we reach Phagiulu."

Ztar turned to Sukja. 'He's suggesting self-indulgence at this time?' That surprised him.

"We will live to see another day, Sukja. Do not worry."

"I do not, my Emperor, but Archangel needs to know what is happening. You keep him very isolated and uninformed. Perhaps you should ease his tension of not knowing." And if more happened than talking, Sukja felt that would be good, too.

Ztar nodded, glad he had clarified. "I told him where we were headed and things go badly, but nothing more. That may not have been the best way to leave things." Ztar left the window and moved toward his attendant. He admired Sukja more with each passing year. Ztar was the empath, but it was Sukja who seemed better attuned to Archangel's mental state.

"He understands battles and fighting and that no matter how much we plan to stay out of the fighting, there are no guarantees. Imagine yourself in his place for a moment. Archangel is alone far from home in an alien realm that is at war. His anxiety is already high. And now we are approaching the battle lines in a fight that is not his." There was so much more Sukja could have said, but he wanted Ztar to do the thinking from Archangel's perspective. If Ztar indeed wanted the Human as more than a simple bedmate, he needed to take his companion into account as a matter of course. Unfortunately, the Emperor was very much out of practice.

"You are right, Sukja. I should have thought of that myself," Ztar said in displeasure with himself. Once Sukja said it, Archangel's plight was obvious. Why hadn't he realized that? Telepathy would have likely revealed what Sukja had just explained, but of late Ztar hadn't been reading Archangel except through the empathic connection. Once again, the limitations of empathy were made evident. Ztar had become so accustomed to Archangel's high baseline anxiety that he tended not to notice it any more unless it rose dramatically. Much of the man's angst was from the stress of confinement and the rest from his general circumstances. Stress from the uncertainties of the pending battle had gotten lost.

The telepath refocused on the empathic link and it revealed anxiety indeed elevated from what Ztar recalled feeling days prior. So much constant strain on his Archangel and so little Ztar could do to lessen it and still hold onto his companion.

"Thank you, Sukja," Ztar expressed as he left Sukja's chambers and headed directly to Archangel.

###

Warren knew from Officer de'Letnoir that they would be arriving at Phagiulu at 14:25, but de'Letnoir had no other information, at least not that he would share. It was nearly 13:00 and shortly the Mi-Lartui would be entering a star system where "things go badly" according to Ztar.

What would they find? Would Mi-Lartui enter the fight, or would the military not risk their Emperor and keep the cruiser and her escorts out of harm's way? Warren could imagine very few conditions under which the military would intentionally bring the Mi-Lartui into battle. But what if Mi-Lartui was ambushed? If Warren was the Commonwealth and he detected the Emperor's cruiser, he'd definitely make it a target if at all possible. Surely, there were escape pods on Ztar's ship, but where? God, how he hated being kept in the dark! If they were captured, maybe he could get back home. And then there was the big question. If the unthinkable happened and the Mi-Lartui was mortally wounded, would Warren even try to escape the dying ship? Would it be better if he was a casualty of war? His death might release everyone from the Accord. Many questions with no answers.

In the midst of his contemplations from his usual perch at the windows, the door chime sounded. Likely Sukja had come calling. "Enter," he responded, turning toward the entrance. Perhaps the attendant would answer some questions.

"Ztar?" Warren voiced in surprise as the Emperor walked in. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

He smiled, loving the look of surprise on Archangel's features. It wasn't often he saw anything other than sadness and pain there. "Mi-Lartui is ready for whatever awaits us at Phagiulu. I'm just in the way on the bridge right now."

Humor, even subtle jest, was a rare thing from the alien and when it happened, it always had an unnerving affect on Warren. 'So what does Ztar want? A little action before battle?' he thought grimly.

When Archangel remained silent, Ztar approached the man tucked into the corner of the window bench. His companion spent far too much time in that corner. He looked lost and small. Ztar sat down.

"I wanted to talk about what we might expect when we reach Phagiulu." Ztar instantly saw/felt more alertness in Archangel. "We've lost communications with our ships there. Long-range sensors do tell us the fighting continues, but little else. As we get closer, though, we'll get better data. When we arrive, Mi-Lartui will stay well away from the battle and at the first sign of possible attack on her, we will to go FTL. You should not worry about your safety."

Warren was surprised. Ztar was actually concerned that he was worried? Or was it yet another attempt to soften him to his subjugator? If that was the case, it wouldn't work. Yet the body language suggested Ztar was sincere.

"Your military isn't foolish enough to risk you – that would be illogical for many reasons," he replied stiffly.

Ztar did not let the coolness of the reply faze him. "Yet as a seasoned warrior, you understand the unexpected happens. Battles can turn in a moment. Should this ship be compromised, access to the escape pod is at the end of the hall past Sukja's chambers. If the abandon ship command is issued, the pod door will open automatically. There's also a manual override that will respond to your bio-sig if the door fails to open on its own. The pod holds four people – you, Sukja, me, and a guard. Do not release the pod until the three of us are inside. The guard is optional. If we are attacked, I'll do my best to stay in telepathic contact with you and Sukja. Should Sukja and I be killed or unable to reach the pod, then you are free to go on your own. Do you have any questions?"

"Sounds simple enough," Warren answered. 'If I decide to use it that is. Going down with the ship sounds tempting…'

Melancholy permeated the link and it concerned Ztar. In an ever so light telepathic touch, he picked up on Archangel's contemplation of not leaving a dying ship. Would the Human actually take death over life if faced with the choice? He looked into the crystalline-blue eyes. He knew the combination of indentureship and confinement was nearly more than Archangel could bear. The first Ztar was unwilling to relinquish, but the second he could ease.

"Archangel, when this battle is over – win or lose – we will find a planet where you can fly free. I vowed that to you and I keep my vows." Ztar ran his fingers through the long, golden waves. He liked that Archangel's hair had grown long. It fit him. Just like the Esserru from Turzent fables. Golden locks tumbling to the shoulders, wings of glistening white, a body tall and lean. The description fit both beings – Archangel and Esserru. Could there possibly be a connection? Some of the things Archangel had done over the past months suggested Esserru power – the energy during their special nights and how he was changing Ztar in spite of himself. Was it possible…?

Ztar brought himself out of his reverie and gazed at the beautifully handsome man sitting before him. Fire ignited without warning and it flashed through his body. Gripped with desire, he wanted Archangel then and there. Would there ever come a time when Archangel did not set him ablaze? Ztar prayed he would not live to see the day.

Warren saw the spark in Ztar's eyes. 'Jesus Christ, of all the times!' What was it about him that did that to Ztar? He tensed in anticipation of what was likely to follow.

Ztar immediately sensed the apprehension. It pained him more each passing week that Archangel hated their time together. If only the gods would see fit to cause Archangel to at least not loath him so. It was only when they were together and Ztar built heat in the man and suppressed aversions that Ztar got a taste of what it might be like if Archangel freely gave himself. No threats, no coercion forcing him, but to come to Ztar as a willing, eager bedmate. Ztar rested his hand on the back of Archangel's head and pulled him close.

"Shouldn't you be getting to the bridge?" Warren snipped with a scolding tone.

"Not quite yet, my Archangel," he breathed into an ear. "You are so beautiful. So perfect."

'So beautiful that it landed me in your bed. That's suppose to make me feel good?' Warren thought to himself, half hoping Ztar was reading him, but either Ztar wasn't or he ignored the thought as all that came next was Ztar's mouth on his. Warren wanted to pull away, but why bother? Ztar always got what he wanted.

Ztar ran his hands behind and up Archangel's back to draw him in and took the kiss deep and slow. He wanted to savor every sensation. In war, one never knew when your time would come.

As soon as Ztar came up for air, Warren spoke. "Not here."

Ztar knew the man held the window seat sacred and not to be defiled by him – another pang to his heart. He made a decision. "Not here and not now. My people are dying in battle at Phagiulu. It would be disrespectful." He sighed and rose. "We arrive at 14:25. Remain in your chambers."

Warren watched in surprise as Ztar exited. The man did have some sense of propriety after all.

###

Mi-Lartui dropped out of FTL beyond the last planet, a safe distance from the fighting. Ship's sensors immediately pumped out vast amounts of information. The data was so much more complete than what they had been limited to from the remaining sector buoy. Ztar stood on the bridge and listened to the ship-to-ship battle chatter. It was standard practice to monitor that dialogue during combat.

"The Remwarge is still fighting, Captain," the officer stationed at tactical announced. "Short-range communication is available, but subspace is blocked."

Ztar breathed a sigh of relief. If Jryzkenri's heavy cruiser was intact, the Commander herself should also be alive.

"Attempt to inform Commander Jryzkenri on a secure channel that we have arrived. Failing that, use ship-to-ship – the Commonwealth likely already knows we're here. Transfer all sensor readings and communications into TO," Ztar commanded and exited the bridge through the side door.

A holo-image popped up as Ztar entered the tactical operations room, suspending Phagiulu System in the air above the large strategy table, displaying Imperial and Commonwealth forces in three-dimensional, real-time imaging. Each ship was tagged with its moniker and Remwarge color-coded as the command ship.

Ztar closed his eyes and reached out hoping to find Jryzkenri. Even though they were within the star system, the distance was still very great. Mi-Lartui sat beyond the last planet and the battle was taking place much closer to the system's center. Connecting with the Commander would be a huge reach even for Ztar. The telepath narrowed his focus to the direction where the Remwarge was relative to the Mi-Lartui. Farther and farther he stretched his consciousness. Suddenly, he felt the brush of many minds. The Remwarge? He couldn't be sure. Ztar caught glimpses of determination, anxiety, fear, and courage. Those were emotions only, no thoughts. He was just too far away for anything more and he ended his attempt when his head began to throb.

'Will have to make do with standard communications,' he told himself with some disappointment. It would have been so much easier if he'd been able to establish telepathic communication with the battle commander.

Ztar counted ten Imperial and eight Commonwealth ships still fighting, but the Commonwealth forces included a battle carrier. That was what was likely blocking long-range communications as it took a ship with a lot of power to do that on a system scale. Once the Commonwealth took out the system sensors, blocking subspace transmissions would be fairly straightforward with the carrier.

Sensors also indicated fighting was still occurring at the primary mining facility on the planet for which the system was named. That was the largest operation and presented itself as the best target. Ztar was surprised the facility hadn't yet fallen. Jryzkenri's last transmission indicated she was withdrawing from Phagiulu. 'Must be the station staff fighting.' That conclusion bolstered him.

Ztar activated the tactical table. Ships status reports scrolled down its surface. Six Imperial ships drifted without power and were out of the fight. Of his ten ships still in the fight, three were significantly damaged and the rest in various states of dysfunction. The Remwarge, being the biggest and most robust, had held up best, though her shields were precariously weak. At the moment, she was taking the brunt of the attack. Fighters on both sides were running strafing missions and engaging in fighter-to-fighter battles.

Although they held a two-ship advantage over the Commonwealth, it wasn't the number of ships, it was their capabilities. And at that moment, the Commonwealth outgunned and outpowered the Empire. Unless something happened soon, the Commonwealth could win the Phagiuli System.

From the composition of his fleet, Ztar surmised that Jryzkenri had chosen maneuverability over raw, but less nimble power. The Commonwealth had chosen otherwise and brought in a battle carrier. Jryzkenri was focusing much of her resources on weakening the carrier's defenses one layer at a time, but that tactic usually meant high casualties. Yet if effective, the lost of the carrier would be a fatal blow to the enemy. In Ztar's opinion, Imperial losses would be too great to succeed. At the current stage of battle, Jryzkenri had few options but continue her tactic unless she hadn't yet revealed all her strategy.

Ztar would not attempt to communicate with Jryzkenri. Let her focus. Ztar had every confidence in his commander, but that didn't mean Ztar couldn't assist in other ways.

"Captain," Ztar said into the air; the communication system would direct his voice to the bridge on the other side of the door.

"Yes, my Emperor."

"Can we establish any communications with Phagiulu? Preferably the Xath complex."

"Working," was all the Captain said. Ztar waited patiently as silence continued for what seemed like a very long time.

Finally, the Captain's voice came over the comm. "We have science technician DeliamPar on comm. He's located in the Xath metallurgy building."

"Greetings, DeliamPar. This is your Emperor. How are you holding up?" Ztar asked to put the man at ease.

There was a pause before a nervous voice filled the air of the TO. "As good as can be expected, my Emperor! The fighting is nearby – I can hear the gunfire."

Science technicians were not soldiers. Ztar knew that it must be a frightening experience for the man. "Help is close by. The Commonwealth will be defeated."

"Yes, Emperor. Knowing you're here…it means a lot!"

Ztar smiled; the man was a supporter. "DeliamPar, there's something I need you to do. Something important that will make a difference in this battle. Are you willing and able to assist?"

"Yes!" the voice was surprised, but enthusiastic. "Whatever you need – just ask!"

The Turzent Emperor was pleased.

###

Warren strained to see anything of the fighting from his windows, but the desperate battle was likely taking place far from their position. With war at their feet, it was much more real. Before, it seemed distant and disconnected from his reality. He was suddenly much more concerned about Earth. Would the Commonwealth attack Earth? Claim her as their own? Was that good or bad? Would the war end up on her doorstep? Worst case scenarios raced, and his chest tightened. 'Don't let Earth be harmed now after all I've sacrificed to keep her safe!' He pushed the silent prayer out to whatever god chose to hear.

###

As Ztar watched the holo display, he extrapolated various scenarios based on the moves playing out before him. The ships represented in the image moved in concert with one another in the dance of battle. It was mesmerizing. He almost had to remind himself that each icon represented hundreds of lives. People who wanted to see loved ones again, to return home and hug their children and parents and friends. People who were potentially making the ultimate sacrifice to safeguard the future of those loved ones.

Ztar's thoughts turned to Archangel, the Human who sat alone in his chambers was so far from everyone he knew and loved. He wasn't here to fight for the Empire. He had no desire to even be part of the Empire. If Ztar hadn't come along, Archangel would be safe on his homeworld, blissfully unaware of the conflict. Ztar experienced a sharp pang of remorse and empathy and made a decision.

He reached out. / _Archangel, please come to the bridge._ /

Archangel jumped at Ztar's sudden intrusion. / _Huh?_ /

/ _Come to the bridge. I want you to join me._ /

/ _What the hell?_ / Surprise and concern blended in the empathic connection.

/ _Please come,_ / Ztar requested again softly and he left Archangel's mind.

"Captain Yels," he then spoke to the comm.

"Yes, Emperor."

"Grant Archangel bridge clearance."

"Emperor?" the voice reflected great surprise.

Ztar imagined the raise eyebrows at the request. This would be a first. "Immediately."

"Yes, my Emperor."

A few minutes later, a puzzled Archangel exited the elevator and stepped onto the bridge. Ztar was waiting just outside TO.

Warren took in the bridge quickly. Smaller than he had imagined, it was full of display screens and control panels. At the front of the bridge, a hologram displayed a star system and various stats. He counted six people seated at various stations. Only one person was standing – the Captain.

"This way," Ztar summoned from a side door.

All eyes followed as he moved across the edge of the bridge to where Ztar had disappeared. From the looks and body language, his presence was highly irregular. What was Ztar up to?

Upon entering the side room, his eyes immediately locked onto a large holo-image. A planetary system with two moons was clearly displayed, and many colored dots moved within the surrounding space, some with identification markers and some only with a symbol attached.

"We're in the tactical operations room. The planet is Phagiulu," Ztar explained from the side of the table situated in the center of the room. "Our position is shown here," he continued, pointing to an inset hologram representation of a star system with a marker denoting the Mi-Lartui. "Imperial ships are shown with ID tags. All others are Commonwealth. The Remwarge is our battle command ship and Jryzkenri our battle commander. Remwarge is tagged in red."

Warren watched as the icons moved and tiny pinpricks of light twinkled around the ships. "Weapons fire?"

"Correct."

"You outnumber the Commonwealth."

"We do."

Warren looked more closely at the Commonwealth ships. One caught his attention. He pointed to the vessel in question. "The Commonwealth has a much larger ship with a lot of fire power – more than all the others. Right?"

"That is their battle carrier."

"Where's yours?" Warren wondered, seeing no equivalent icon with an imperial tag.

"In route."

Warren moved to the data display embedded in the table, glad he had studied the language in its written form as well as spoken. Reading the continuously scrolling reports, he could see the Imperial ships had already taken a lot of damage.

"Things do not go well for you."

Just as Archangel said the words, a bright flash emanated from the holo display and Ztar' heart sank. The Ennova was destroyed. She had been one of the more severely damaged. They were down to nine ships still capable of fighting, two of which were extremely vulnerable from damage.

Warren watched as the icon tag flashed out of existence and he surmised what it meant. Glancing over at Ztar, he saw the Emperor's face fall. 'Yep, a ship gone.'

"Sorry, Ztar," he offered.

Ztar turned his attention to the sensor readings of the remaining ships. The news was not good. They were taking a beating. The Remwarge's shields were beginning to fail in sections. The Commonwealth battle carrier was closing in on Jryzkenri's position, likely for the kill. The tide of battle had turned without question.

"Emperor," Yels' voice came over the comm. "We've received word that Commander Jryzkenri has been seriously injured in the last fighter run. A weak point in the Remwarge's shields allowed enemy fire to reach their ops room. First Officer Elayor is now in command."

"Damn the gods!" Ztar cursed the air. They were losing; that was clear. A decision needed to be made. Retreat now and loose the system but spare lives, or…

"My Emperor, I'm moving Mi-Lartui outside the system," Yels voice sounded strained to Warren. He wondered how many friends the captain had lost or would loose in today's battle.

"Not yet, Captain. We hold our position."

The response was delayed ever so slightly. "Yes, Emperor."

Warren eyed Ztar. The man was up to something – Warren could read it in the body language. He found himself slipping into battle mode. Though he'd love nothing more than to be free of Ztar even if it meant the Emperor's death, he didn't want to see the rest of the crew harmed. They had done nothing to him. Ztar should allow his captain to retreat.

"Ztar, Yels is thinking the same thing we all are. The battle is lost. You should pull back. You have to assume the Commonwealth knows you're here. They may feel they can now spare resources to come after you."

Ztar stared at the holo-images. The fighting was clustered in two areas – one near Phagiulu where Remwarge and the Commonwealth battle carrier were locked in combat and the rest in the space between Phagiulu and the next planet out. If his backup plan was going to work, the position of the battle carrier had to change. But how?

"Captain, please join me in TO," Ztar requested.

"Ztar, what are you planning?" Warren asked, but the alien ruler ignored the question, but more from being deep in thought than rudeness.

Yels entered and Ztar motioned him to the holo-display. Moving his hand through the display, he zoomed in on the area surrounding Phagiulu. "Captain, I want you to take us here," he commanded, pointing to a specific point in the hologram.

Yels was predictably shocked. "But my Emperor, that's directly into the fighting! Mi-Lartui is powerful, but she alone will not sway the outcome of this battle. She is no match against their battle carrier."

"I'm well aware of the capabilities of both ships, Captain. We don't need to take out the carrier, just lure her into position."

The captain cocked his head. "My Emperor, I need to know what you're planning."

"Which is why I summoned you."

###

_A/N: Hope to post C18 in a couple days and keep up that pace until we run out of story. See you all soon!_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: We're on a roll now. This chapter and three more and done, can you believe it? Thank you to my wonderful reviewers – love hearing the things that catch your attention, garners an emotional response, and even the parts you don't care for – it all helps me improve my writing. _

_Without further ado, let's get back to the action!_

**Chapter 18**

Warren listened in fascination as Ztar outlined his scheme. If it worked, Ztar would pull off quite the brilliant victory in the face of certain defeat.

As Ztar had explained his plan, another Imperial ship was lost. Remwarge was taking increasing damage and its acting captain had commed Mi-Lartui that he was considering retreating to fight another day. Ztar belayed the idea. He issued new instructions on ship movements and tactics as a precursor. It didn't matter if the Commonwealth intercepted the transmissions, in fact it would work to their advantage if they did.

Yels ordered the Mi-Lartui to FTL jump directly into Phagiulu orbit creating shockwaves that would ripple the planet's atmosphere – a tricky maneuver that only the most daring tried. Her two escort ships remained tucked behind the last planet in the system and held in reserve. As soon as Mi-Lartui emerged from FTL, she let loose with two short-range cannons, aimed directly at the battle carrier. It didn't matter if they caused damage or not…they wanted to get the carrier's attention.

Ztar and Warren stood on the bridge to one side and watched the action via what Warren could only describe as a jumbo-sized heads-up display at the front of the bridge.

The powerful telepath closed his eyes and extended his mind to the planet below, to the Xath complex, down to the location where the science technician should be positioned. DeliamPar had indeed found his way to the control room. 'Thank the gods!'

/ _DeliamPar, this is Emperor Ztar. Do not be afraid,_ / Ztar touched the unsuspecting mind as gently as he could. Despite his best effort, the technician reacted as many do at the sound of a voice in their head that wasn't their own.

"What? W-what's going on?" Ztar felt the man cry out loud and bring his hands up to his head.

/ _Be calm, technician. This is your Emperor – I'm a telepath and you're hearing my voice through our mental connection._ /

"Telepath? I don't understand. Not possible!" the technician grappled with the concept. "You can hear my thoughts?"

The sense of violation was immediate. / _Only those thoughts you are thinking at this moment. Your memories are safe, DeliamPar. I will not intrude any further than what is needed to accomplish our mission. Are you ready to perform your duty?_ /

They didn't have time for mental handholding. The enemy was ripping apart Ztar's remaining fleet and their situation grew more desperate by the moment. He felt the technician gather himself.

"Yes, my Emperor!" the man replied, still using his mouth and not his mind to respond.

/ _Very good. This is what I need you to do._ /

While Ztar was immersed in mental conversation with the individual on the ground, Mi-Lartui's powerful cannons did their job and pulled the Commonwealth's attention from the Remwarge. Fighters were heading in their direction as Imperial ships moved into their assigned positions.

The holo display lit up with weapons fire as Imperial and Commonwealth forces clashed with renewed vigor. Imperial forces slowly drew the enemy closer to Mi-Lartui. Soon the battle would be fully upon them and Warren braced himself. The bridge heads-up display suddenly divided into multiple insets, providing the bridge crew views of the action in all directions around the Emperor's cruiser.

The first hit came from a fighter. The strafe cut a swath across Mi-Lartui's side shields sending subtle shockwaves through the ship from backlash energy. Mi-Lartui's weapons officer returned the favor and the fighter took a glancing blow but remained operational. A second fighter came in for its run, with an Imperial fighter close on its heels, firing rapidly. Just as the enemy fighter got off its first shot, the Imperial pilot got a direct hit and his target erupted, sending fiery debris colliding against Mi-Lartui's shields.

Beyond the fighters that were beginning to swarm Mi-Lartui, Commonwealth and Imperial striker ships duked it out, enemy ships attempting to get close to the best prize of all – the Emperor's cruiser – with Imperial fighters attempting to block. The battle edged closer and closer to Phagiulu.

With Yels having established command of the Imperial forces, he busily issued orders as needed to ensure each of the Empire's remaining vessels followed the plan. Then the communication officer made an announcement.

"Captain, we're being hailed."

"Put it through."

A very dark-skinned face filled the display of a species Warren had not seen before.

"Captain Yels, I presume."

If timbre was an indicator, the alien was male.

Yels moved closer to the suspended image. "That is correct." Just then, a solid shudder ran through the Mi-Lartui as she took a hard hit from one of the approaching vessels.

"Quite the entrance, Captain – reckless, but impressive. I am General Noitiapp – the one orchestrating your defeat here today," the general proclaimed with a sly smile. "The question is what are _you_ doing here?"

"Joining the battle obviously. You will not have Phagiulu today, General," Yels said with conviction.

Warren knew the conversation would become a verbal dance between the General and Captain. The General was suspicious, as Warren would be.

"You take unnecessary risks with your Emperor's flagship, Captain."

"Perhaps it is you who take foolish risks. Phagiulu being one."

Warren recognized the goading. Likely so would Noitiapp. Just then, Mi-Lartui rocked from another weapons hit, and the bridge crew was busy maneuvering the ship and firing weapons, bemoaning shield strength, targets, and the like while Yels and Noitiapp calmly continued their verbal sparring. It was almost surreal.

"Perhaps your Emperor has chosen to forfeit his precious Mi-Lartui until more reinforcements arrive. Or am I facing the best the mighty Turzent Empire can muster? Without a battle carrier, what hope do you have? Sad that you and your crew will loose your lives in a fight already lost." An apparently confident General leaned back and grinned. "And where is the illustrious Ztar? Tucked away on one of the ships you thought we wouldn't notice behind Teg?" the General asked in reference to the last planet in the system where the Mi-Lartui left her escorts.

At that, Ztar stepped up next to Yels. "I am here, General Noitiapp. In the Empire, we do not believe in hiding from our enemy," Ztar said with a devilish smile.

Measured surprise spread across the General's features. "Emperor, I'm impressed that you've chosen to stay with your forces. Admirable, but unfortunate. Unless of course you have a backup plan. Now what could that possibly be?" the General smirked back.

Yels slowly melted into the background. Ztar would take it from there apparently. Warren ducked back into TO where the holo-image continued to display the action. Mi-Lartui had obviously become a focus. Imperial forces were making it look good, though, feigning an attempt to draw Commonwealth ships away from the Imperial cruiser, but the battle carrier hadn't yet taken the bait.

He watched in fascination as the various ships juggled for position and fired weapons. It all seemed like a computer game and it was hard to remember the fighting was real and people were being injured and killed. Yet shockwaves running through the cruiser from weapons impacts were becoming more frequent and more intense, driving home that the situation was far from a game.

Then Warren noticed something of interest in the Commonwealth ship movements. One ship seemed slightly removed from the action. Not enough to overtly call attention to itself, but enough that he began to wonder. A hesitant captain? Or did the ship carry something or someone of importance? Had anyone else noticed? It was smallest of the enemy crafts aside from the fighters, but appeared to carry quite a bit of firepower for its size. He reviewed the scanner readings. Nothing indicated more than casual damage. Interesting.

Warren stepped back onto the bridge and skirted the perimeter to Yels. "Captain, a moment please?"

Yels looked up in surprise from a display monitor. "I'm rather busy at this moment, _companion_." The Captain's voice was full of disapproval.

Warren swallowed back the instant ire at the attempt to put him in his place and pressed forward on the strong gut instinct. He was likely more battle-hardened than many of the Mi-Lartui's crew and had learned to listen to his intuition. "My apologies, Captain, but have you noticed anything unusual about the smaller Commonwealth ship – the one off to the carrier's starboard side?"

Yels scanned Warren's face, obviously deciding whether it worthwhile to check out what he asked. How much Yels knew about his past, Warren had no way of knowing. When the captain brought up scans of the referenced ship, Warren suspected that he must at least have known Warren's fighting experience to not dismiss him out of hand.

"It's comparable to our striker class ship in size and accompaniment. Her weaponry is heavy compared to similar Commonwealth ships, but she could be an upgrade," Yels said as the Mi-Lartui shook from another strong shot.

"Her movements and position are off, don't you think?" Warren pressed.

The Captain reviewed a display of the ship movements. After a minute, he looked at Warren. "You're right, something's up," Yels responded just as Mi-Lartui took a hit that rocked the ship. Warning bells chimed.

"Captain, lower aft shields are down 20%. Minor damage on deck three," a crewmember called out.

Yels then replayed the scans in fast-forward from the previous half hour. Over his shoulder, Warren could see that the suspect ship had indeed held back.

"I see what you mean. Either she has a timid captain or she's being held in reserve or-"

"Or she's carrying something worth protecting and trying not to look too obvious about it," Warren completed the thought.

"Perhaps the General is not on the carrier as it appears," the Captain speculated.

"And this smaller ship, how would she hold up against Mi-Lartui's weapons?" Warren asked.

Yels smiled. "Not so well, even with her shields fully intact. We far outgun her."

"I'll leave the rest to you then," Warren finished. He had made his case and headed back toward TO, refocusing on Ztar's conversation with Noitiapp.

"If you doubt me, General, perhaps you should drop your psychic dampeners long enough for me to prove that I personally stand against you and your invasion fleet," Ztar was saying. It was no secret Ztar was telepathic – hard to keep that sort of thing from your own people let alone enemy spies.

The General smirked. "Speaking of shields, Emperor, your own are beginning to weaken. I look forward to meeting the illustrious Turzent Emperor in person after we've captured your Mi-Lartui."

Just before Warren entered TO, Ztar cocked his head slightly. Warren darted his eyes to Yels who seemed detached. Likely, they were communicating telepathically, perhaps Yels bringing Ztar up to speed on the suspicious vessel.

The Captain casually walked over to weapons and quietly spoke. "Target all forward and port cannons on this vessel, Lieutenant," he ordered, pointing out the mark. "Full power on the first volley and keep hitting it."

"Yes, sir."

"Before we can meet, General Noitiapp, you have to catch me. I'm not easy prey!" Ztar taunted.

With that, Mi-Lartui cannons fired everything she had at the targeted ship. As soon as the barrage hit the smaller vessel, it became apparent the General was not on board as he remained still in his chair. Ztar continued his diversionary tactics while others did their best to protect the Mi-Lartui from the increasing attacks breaking through the line of Imperial ships and fighters.

Watching the holo-image revealed the battle edged steadily closer to Phagiulu. At the same time, the red pinpoint on the planet's surface spun steadily toward the battlefield. The next hit the Mi-Lartui took caused Warren to grab the edge of the table. More warning chimes. Controlled but urgent voices filled the bridge. The enemy was obviously making inroads through Mi-Lartui's defenses.

Mi-Lartui's weapons continued to track and bombard the target ship as she attempted to elude the onslaught. Warren watched the scanner readings – the small ship wasn't holding up well. He saw her attempt to evade cannon fire by slipping behind the carrier, but she wasn't maneuvering like she should and Imperial forces cut her off as their weapons cut a swath across her forward shields. 'Main engines affected?' Warren wondered. Suddenly, the readings flashed that her forward shields were gone and immediately after came a cascade of damage readings. And still Mi-Lartui and the intercepting ship continued the barrage.

Another Imperial ship fired phase weapons directly at an engine pod and the craft's shields collapsed in a death burst. Then as suddenly as the attack on the small ship began, it was over in a flash of light. Warren guessed it took less than two minutes, but at what price to the Mi-Lartui? While her most powerful weapons and other ships were trained on the target, Commonwealth forces moved in far too close.

Warren moved to the TO doorway to see if the General reacted at all to the destruction of the vessel. As he stepped into viewing position, someone leaned over the General's image and spoke near his ear. The alien face went slack, quickly revealing they had destroyed no ordinary target. At first Noitiapp looked incredulous. Then Warren could actually see the General shudder. Expression went from stunned disbelief to rage in an instant.

"_Damn_ you, Ztar!" the General roared as he stood and lunged at whatever projected his image. "You goddamn imperial bastard! You killed my son! My _son__!_" the deep voice bellowed at full volume.

Warren thought the General might blow a blood vessel – he was rage incarnate. For a moment, Warren felt sorry for the General's loss, but then how many Imperial sons and daughters had the Commonwealth already killed in the war they started?

Ztar was unfazed by the man's outcry. "Casualties are to be expected, General. Perhaps you and your leaders should have considered that when you declared war," Ztar pointed out flatly.

The General loomed into the projection. "You will pay dearly for this, Ztar!" and the image went blank.

Ztar turned to the Captain, who was at the weapons station. "I think we may see the carrier move now," he said with a wicked grin.

After a few moments, the weapons officer spoke. "That's affirmative, the carrier is moving toward our position."

Ztar's eyes locked with Warren. Warm feelings emanated through a non-verbal telepathic link. "Thank you, Archangel. I understand from Captain Yels it was you who noticed the suspicious nature of that ship." Then Ztar turned to the bridge crew. "Now let's see if we can get that behemoth into position for a little surprise."

Suddenly, Mi-Lartui rocked violently. Warren beat his wings once to halt his forward fall toward the bridge deck. 'Yikes!'

"Cannon shot from battle carrier! Damage – decks three and four!" someone barked out.

The warning chimes took on a more urgent tone. Warren guessed that meant things were getting worse. He made his way over to the TO holo-image as Mi-Lartui continued to rock from impacts. A bright flash indicated another ship lost. As the carrier approached their position, guns blazed at anything in her path.

'I think Ztar's plan better work,' Warren thought to himself. 'That's one vengeful general heading our way!'

Ztar appeared suddenly behind Warren. "The trap is laid, now it needs to be sprung," he whispered, then closed his eyes. Warren surmised he was in mental contact with their man on the ground.

Ztar reached down to the Xath complex to the single mind that may well determine the outcome of the battle. The controls the technician stood before were of an offline planetary defense weapon. The very weapon Ztar had ordered refurbished and then put back into deactive mode many months ago when it appeared war might be a possibility. The weapon, an incredibly powerful surface-to-space phase cannon could be the turning point in the fight – _if_ all went as planned.

Earlier, Ztar had telepathically walked DeliamPar through programming the targeting system off line, careful not to bring the weapon live – that would have given away everything to Commonwealth sensors.

Under guidance, Technician DeliamPar set the cannon for a conical energy spread, which would take out or cripple nearly anything in its swath. But the destructive corridor was narrow and still not in position relative to the battle raging above the planet. And the multi-phase weapon could not be activated to fire until the last possible moment. Thankfully, bringing the cannon and its enormous subsurface energy banks to life was a quick process if access codes and preliminaries were pre-entered. With all preparations accomplished off line, the control computer simply waited for the command to energize the mammoth gun and fire. The technician stood at the ready to speak that final command.

/ _DeliamPar, you must be prepared to act instantly upon my order – not before. Is that clear?_ /

"Yes, Emperor!"

Ztar could feel the tension in the young technician's mind. / _You will perform well, I have no doubts_, / he reassured.

"Thank you, Emperor Ztar. It is an honor to serve you."

Warren shifted attention to the battle chatter he had almost tuned out. The verbal volley had taken on a new urgency. Voices layered over voices as fighters and ships exchanged information in quick snatches.

"Got him!" "Go-go-go!" "Zero One cover Three Five now!" "Striker Two cut off that son of a dospit heading to Mi-Lartui's flank!" "Need help over here!" "Where's my cover, Fortune? We're getting pounded!" "Striker Two here – shields failing, FTL off-line, secondary engines hot – not sure we can get to Mi-Lartui!" "Pull it together, Striker Two. We need you in this fight!" "I'm hit! Ejecting – someone get me!" "No-o-o-!"

The voices carried a tone of desperation one hears when the soldiers believe the battle is turning against them. That old battle itch rose – Warren was never one to stand on the sidelines. 'Wish there was something more I could do!' His heart went out to those that were bravely dying while they lured the carrier into position. Yet even if they managed to take out the mammoth vessel, it would be meaningless if there were no Imperial ships left to finish the fight.

The battle was fierce with ships beginning to crowd the space between the carrier and Ztar's cruiser. Mi-Lartui vibrated from impact after impact. How much more could her shields take? Then the strongest hit yet rocked the Mi-Lartui, causing lights and displays to flicker. Readings clearly showed the shot came from the carrier. Warren glanced at the holo-image – they still needed to move the fight closer to the planet without looking like that was the intent. Suddenly, the carrier slowed its approach. Was her Captain or the General getting suspicious? Perhaps one of them smelled a trap or wondered why the battle drifted ever closer to the planet. Or worst of all, had their sensors somehow detected the planet-based weapon was readied?

Suddenly, Warren picked up Ztar's urgent voice from the bridge. "Yels, on my signal, cut engines. The instant I give the word – emergency shutdown! I'll explain on my way to the engine room." Stepping back onto the bridge, Warren just caught sight of Ztar on the elevator as the door closed.

The descent to deck five seemed to take forever. As promised, he put the plan into Yels mind. Ztar bolted from the lift and ran to engineering. This needed to look convincing. All was lost if he could not lure the carrier into the target zone. Ztar needed to freshen the bait.

Mi-Lartui rocked violently as he entered the engine room, and Ztar grabbed the doorframe to keep his balance. "Officer de'Redlyr!"

"Yes, Emperor!" the female in charge called back over the hum of engines and power systems and warning chimes. She stood at an interface terminal, quickly operating various controls, barely looking up as she replied.

"I need to you vent the discharge chambers with the next hit near the port drive. I also need the vent chamber door open on this side when that happens."

Officer de'Redlyr looked shocked. "But sir, if we do that-"

"I know what that means, Officer. I don't have time to explain – just make it happen. Dump everything bit of excess plasma you can into the vent. I need it to look like we've lost engines."

"That alone won't mimic a drive explosion, sir."

"It will with a little extra energy burst." Ztar moved quickly to an equipment locker. He needed something to tie himself down.

"You're going to supercharge the spent plasma!" de'Redlyr exclaimed in realization.

"Exactly. Let's make this convincing!"

"As you command!" The officer ordered all non-essential personnel from the engine bay, loaded the chamber with the spent material, and overrode safety locks and fail-safes. Meanwhile, Ztar found an equipment strap and lashed himself down in direct line with the chamber hatchway holding the spent fuel.

Mi-Lartui shuddered from another blast of enemy weapons. A surreally calm automated voice gave its warning – "Shield Grid 12 integrity at critical levels." de'Redlyr jumped from the vent controls to another terminal to scan the readings. "Sir," she said turning toward Ztar. "We are dangerously close to losing engine shields."

"All the more convincing then," Ztar replied trying to put a positive spin on the news. "The next hit on this section of ship and we act."

"Understood," the officer acknowledged, tying herself to her computer station.

/ _Yels, we're ready,_ / Ztar telepathed his Captain. / _Make certain inertia carries us into the target zone._ /

/ _Understood._ /

Ztar drew up his energy field, gathering it around him. He shimmered like a mirage as he steadily increased intensity. Deeper and deeper he dug to manifest every bit of bio-energy he could generate. And then he had to hold it. The effort was enormous and he quickly started to tremble from the strain.

Thankfully, the wait wasn't long. The enemy knew shields protecting the port engine were failing and would concentrate their firepower there. The next hit sent flying sparks and vapors and anything not held down. In that moment, de'Redlyr opened both hatches of the vent chamber, shooting plasma into space. Escaping air tore at Ztar, lifting him off his feet as explosive decompression sucked anything not tied down out the vent.

/ _Now Yels!_ /

With huge relief, he released the pent-up power down the throat of the vent chamber. When energy hit plasma just beyond the ship's hull and shields, the resulting explosion rocked Mi-Lartui and her occupants. Officer de'Redlyr had done her job…the computer detected the explosion and snapped shut the chamber doors a millisecond ahead of the explosion, preventing damage inside the engine bay.

Catching their breath, Ztar and de'Redlyr shakily unstrapped themselves, noting that the engines were quiet as planned. The only sound in the bay was hiss of air pumping back in. Mi-Lartui was adrift, hopefully heading directly into the path of the ground cannon.

Once Ztar felt steady enough, he ran back to the bridge. All eyes turned to him as the elevator door slid open.

"That was impressive, Emperor!" Yels greeted. "We're being hailed again by the carrier."

One corner of Ztar's mouth upturned slightly. "The General wishing to gloat most likely. What is our status?" The ship rocked with another volley of enemy fire.

"We are drifting toward the target area. Forward weapons out. Damage reported on decks three, four, and five. Shield Grid 12 is down, as is 4 and 17…minor structural breaches in those sections, but the hull matrix is rebuilding. Internal force fields have isolated the affected areas. Remaining primary shields at 50% and dropping," Yels paused as the ship quivered yet again. The weapons officer continued his barrage at the incoming ships. "Several reports of injuries, but no known fatalities. Five Imperial ships are still battle-worthy, not counting ourselves, but most are in rough shape. Mi-Lartui is taking the brunt of the attack right now, Emperor." The ship shook hard, causing Yels to grab hold of his bridge seat to remain upright. "As you can likely tell. She's a tough ship – Mi-Lartui will hold together."

"Toughest our Empire can build," he said with pride and admiration. Ztar and the Mi-Lartui had a long history. She had seen many battles over the years and had never failed her crew or her Emperor. But the rest of the fleet's ships and their crews were in dire straights. The fighting had to end soon or they wouldn't have enough firepower left to win even if they took out the carrier.

"All is ready on this end?" he asked his Captain.

"It is."

Ztar touched minds with the technician at Xath complex. He stood by, nervous but ready.

"Then let's finish this!"

Warren observed from just inside the ops doorway. He was not encouraged by the holo-image. Too many ships lost. How close were they to losing regardless? Could Ztar actually still pull a victory rabbit out of the proverbial hat? But Warren was use to seemingly hopeless scenarios. Where there's life, there's hope. And in battle, the unexpected can happen at any time.

"Put the General on screen, Captain. We've made him wait long enough."

The large image of a very pleased-looking General popped up. "Ah, Emperor Ztar. I see you have a bit of a propulsion problem. Perhaps you're willing to talk surrender?"

Ztar paced slowly in front of the image, looking tense. "General, certainly _you_ would not surrender while you had ships able to fight. Yet that is what you expect of me."

The General sat back in his chair in a very smug manner. Warren continued to observe the body language from as much as he could see of the General. He seemed relaxed and confident. There was no indication he smelled a trap.

"Emperor, this is how is see your situation. You have six ships left against my eight, one of which is a battle carrier. Most of your ships are damaged, some heavily. Mi-Lartui continues to accumulate damage and is adrift. My long-range sensors show no indication of reinforcements coming to your aid. You cannot hold out much longer. If I were you, I'd be contemplating the number of lives I could save instead of sacrificing in a battle already lost. But that's just me." The General smiled arrogantly.

/ _Yels, are we within range?_ / Ztar queried with his mind.

/ _Nearly. We will enter the target zone in two point seven tonis. Then we need the General to follow._ /

Warren ran a quick conversion – a tonis equaled roughly 1.3 Earth minutes. It was going to be a long three and a half minutes.

Ztar stopped walking and stood in front of Noitiapp's image. "A ceasefire first, General, then we'll discuss the matter of surrender."

"I'm happy with the situation as it stands, Emperor. A ceasefire serves me no purpose."

"Just as this war serves no purpose, Noitiapp! Why was it forced upon me? What do you and your leaders hope to gain? So many lives lost for no apparent reason other than bloodlust."

"I do not make those decisions, Emperor. My role is to win the wars declared by those who do."

"So it matters not what you fight for?"

"I am a soldier, as you once were. Have you forgotten what that means? I take care of the fighting and the politicians do the game playing."

"Perhaps you can say that over your son's grave."

The General's face instantly soured. "Are you _trying_ to get me to kill you, Ztar?"

Mi-Lartui lurched once again, and the alarm chimes sounded and a computer voice announced its unemotional warnings. Someone silence them immediately.

"I'm making a point, General. This war was orchestrated by your leaders for their own purposes. My Empire did not threaten yours. My people did not strike out at yours. We could have continued to live peacefully side-by-side for generations. Instead, we are losing sons and daughters for reasons undefined to us. What schemes are your leaders indulging at the price of your warriors? Warriors whose generals apparently are so tamed as to fight without just cause!"

General Noitiapp's posture stiffened at the allegation. However, to Ztar, Noitiapp also looked questioning. The Commonwealth military man was thinking. Perhaps Ztar had struck a cord. After many seconds, the General replied.

"You have your ceasefire, Ztar. I'm coming along side, and then we _will_ discuss your surrender. Any sign of trickery and Mi-Lartui will be destroyed, but not before I make you watch me annihilate every one of your remaining ships. Do you understand my terms?"

"Understood." The image winked out. "Watch them closely, Captain. Trickery runs both ways. Order our ships to stand down."

"Yes, Emperor."

Ztar breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. He walked into the tactical operations room to watch the holo-image with Archangel.

"We might pull this off," Ztar remarked, but his voice was filled with concern.

"Let's hope your remaining ships have enough fight left in them to finish things if we do take out the carrier," Warren put voice to the obvious.

"Precisely my concern."

The two men watched in silence as the image showed Noitiapp's carrier coming along side. Both ships moved slowly in tandem into the target zone displayed as a shaded conical area in the holographic projection, while the shading also moved with the planet's rotation toward the ships. The vessels would be with the zone for only a tonis.

"Our timing must be perfect," Ztar said seemingly more to himself than to Warren, but then looked away from the display and into Warren's eyes. "I'm sorry if this goes badly. I hadn't intended to risk your life – or any of my crew. This wasn't planned – I didn't lie to you earlier. War tends to play out by its own rules at times."

Warren was mildly surprised. Ztar was apologizing that Warren thought he had lied. He gave the man a single nod of acceptance.

Yels appeared in the doorway. "Emperor, we are seconds from position."

"Good," he said turning toward his Captain. "Let's kick some butt!" and he smiled devilishly once again.

In spite of himself, Warren also had to grin. He knew where Ztar had picked up the phrase.

Key players took their positions. Ztar linked telepathically with the planet-side technician. de'Redlyr held her fingers over the controls to bring engines back on line in emergency startup. DeliamPar at the weapon control on Phagiulu, shaking as he waited to speak the two-word command that would reawakened and fire the cannon. Yels sat tensely in the Captain's chair ensuring no Imperial ships would be in the target zone and as many Commonwealth ships as possible were.

A hail came from the battle carrier. General Noitiapp's image popped up with Yels' authorization. "Emperor Ztar of the Turzent Empire, prepare to be boarded. You will be escorted to my ship where we will discuss the details of your surrender," the General announced sternly.

Ztar knew the General had no intention of talking – once Ztar was in his custody, he would demand unconditional surrender. The Emperor moved into the viewable area of the bridge so Noitiapp could see him. "It is sad when honor no longer has meaning, General. Don't you agree?"

"You have lost the battle, Emperor. The honorable thing to do is accept defeat."

Ztar brushed Yels' mind. All Imperial ships were safely outside the zone. The carrier, several of her fighters, and two striker class-equivalent vessels were all within the target area. It was more than Ztar could have hoped for – Yels had choreographed the dance of battle brilliantly.

He signaled the technician. / _Now, DeliamPar!_ /

On the surface, a shaky voice shouted "Computer – Fire!"

"Authorization confirmed. Command accepted," the weapon's AI announced. The massive machine rumbled as it woke. Power reserves surged their immense energy into the weapon as the cannon turned its nose toward the preprogrammed spot in the sky. The entire facility vibrated beneath DeliamPar's feet. In seconds, the multi-cannon gun would fire.

Things happened at lightening speed as Warren stood to one side of the bridge watching the holographic projection from the carrier. Someone yelled on the General's ship "Planetary defenses coming on line!"

Noitiapp's face read dismay.

"Engines now, de'Redlyr!" Yels yelled over the comm.

General Noitiapp screamed to his people "Get us out of here!"

The Mi-Lartui jumped into emergency FTL drive in a gut-wrenching wave that Warren was hard pressed to describe. He stomach definitely objected, but he made his way the two steps back into the TO room to watch the holo-image.

Just as Mi-Lartui jumped out of the target zone, the cannon fired, lighting up the conical target zone in a near blinding burst of light that burned through the image for several seconds. He could hear Noitiapp's scream from the bridge and then there was only silence. When the light faded from the cannon blast, the holo-image showed no movement in the target zone and less enemy ships than before.

"We got them!" the weapons officer shouted. "The fighters and two striker class ships destroyed. The battle carrier is adrift – no energy readings. She's dead in space."

Part of Warren, a small quiet voice he really hadn't heard until that moment, had hoped Mi-Lartui's engines failed to start and she was destroyed along with the enemy. Shouts and whoops filled the ship-to-ship communications still being piped in. Mi-Lartui's bridge crew was rejoicing as well. It all contrasted sharply with the whispers of disappointment within Warren. Pulling wings close in unconscious comfort, he gathered himself and moved to watch the mop-up from the doorway to the bridge.

Yels quickly halted the celebrating. He opened channels to the remaining Imperial ships, including Mi-Lartui's escorts. "Let's clean up rest of this mess!" he commanded with unmistakable enthusiasm.

With the loss of the carrier and other ships, what was left of the Commonwealth fleet was already retreating. The quick departure of the Commonwealth ships left only those incapable of movement lingering. Action over, Warren made his way toward the lift to return to his chambers.

Yels walked over to his fellow Turzent who had nearly single-handedly saved the day. "My Emperor, to serve with you is the greatest honor of my career. Congratulations on a brilliant victory!"

The bridge crew slowly stood and came to attention facing Ztar. Warren watched as the monarch filled with pride. "Captain, make certain our ground troops get reinforcements. Then open a channel to our ships and the Xath complex."

"Yes, Emperor."

Warren paused at the elevator to listen.

Ztar stood tall as he began speaking to his warriors. "We pulled off a minor miracle today. Each of you performed with courage and skill. No one could have done alone what we accomplished together. Many of us did not survive to share in our victory and to them we owe a debt that cannot be repaid. I thank you for your courage and loyalty this day. Congratulations on a victory hard won and well fought!"

And with that, Ztar walked to where Archangel was standing. "What I said to my military, I meant for you, too. Thank you for what you did today."

Warren didn't feel the need to reply. What he did he hadn't done for Ztar. He had done it for the men and women who were depending on Ztar to save their lives.

"I think I need a drink, my Archangel."

"Most likely," Warren replied blandly, and they stepped onto the elevator together as Ztar gave him an odd glance.

###

_A/N: __'Let the games of war begin in earnest,' as Ztar said in C17.__ What does that mean for Warren? C19 answers._

_Until then, thank you for your ongoing support and have a spectacular day!_


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: We are rapidly approaching the end of Warren's story. Before we get to that, I just have to say I have the most amazing reviewers! Truly. The time and effort put into the feedback humbles me. Thank you is simply inadequate, ArtistofLight, louisestarfly, and silberstreif. And to all my other faithful readers from around the world who chose to remain anonymous, you have my thanks as well for being there every chapter! _

_This installment once again jumps ahead in time and covers a lot of ground. Let's see how Warren has been holding up and what's in store._

**Chapter 19**

**Weeks after the Battle for Phagiuli  
><strong>Warren jolted awake in a sweat. It was the nightmare again. He rose out of bed and made his way through the darkness to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on his face and getting a drink of water, he had shaken off the worst of the leftover emotions from the dream.

The recurring dream literally involved his worst nightmare – losing his wings, again. As if going through that agony wasn't bad enough once, now for three consecutive nights he relieved the horror in all its gut-wrenching, soul-ripping glory. But it was not a replay of actual events from years ago. For three nights, his subconscious had conjured a twist.

He was in a box. It's dark and he's alone. He searches desperately for a way out, but there is none. Solid from top to bottom. The box is small, barely room to stretch his wings half-spread. Yet he knows what's outside – open skies. He knows the floating tomb hovers in the air far above the ground.

The panic in his dream has nothing to do with not having enough air to breathe or food or water. It comes from knowing that unless he can escape; his wings will shrivel and drop off, forever robbing him of flight. And the clock is ticking. Suddenly, he feels the sensation of his wings becoming smaller. He pounds and claws at the walls, ceiling, and floor to no avail. The wings continue to shrink. Fear and desperation are all consuming. And then the worst happens. What is left of the wings drop off his back onto the floor and he screams. Then he wakes.

The nightmare so summed up his existence. Trapped in a tin can floating in space with no hope of escape.

War was five months old, and the Mi-Lartui had stopped for a side trip only three times. Just three times, he'd been able to fly free. Warren was going insane. The brief planetary stopover after the battle for Phagiulu provided only a temporary reprieve. That last aerial foray was 37 agonizing days earlier. His psyche screamed against the confinement. Distractions were no longer effective. Liquor only dulled the physical and emotional turmoil temporarily. The shuttle bay mostly cleared for Warren's use provided limited relief. While the bay was large, it wasn't large enough for one who played in the open skies. Ztar's attempts to use telepathy to ease Warren's distress met with limited success. The need for flight and freedom was deeper than Warren's mind – it permeated his soul. Telepathy cannot touch the soul.

Every day was worse than the day before. At times, it took everything Warren had not to curl in a corner and scream until he had no voice. His wings throbbed in their demand for exercise and to caress the winds. His body trembled at the thought of soaring. Nights not punctuated with nightmares were filled with dreams of flying, but inevitably, barriers and walls would invade, forcing him to land or crash so that even nocturnal imaginings were no longer an escape.

Warren knew he had fallen into depression. Time moved like molasses from one meaningless hour to the next in a life without joy or happiness or peace. Instead, a pernicious deadness filled him, accentuated by the relentless ache from deprivation of sustenance as basic to his survival as air and food.

Sukja grew increasingly concerned about Archangel's psychological state and he expressed it more than once. Ztar was fully aware of the precarious condition of his companion. He had come to maintain a continuous empathic link to Archangel because of his deepening alarm about the man's mental stability.

The hungry need Ztar experienced through the link had grown debilitating in its intensity. Little wonder the man had spiraled into despair. Yet knowing the suffering and doing something drastic about it were two different things, but when Sukja verbalized his fear they may lose the Human to suicide or madness, he was spurred to make a painful decision.

Ztar entered Archangel's chambers to find him in the usual window seat spot, staring out at the stars, knees pulled up to his chest, arms around his legs, wings held tightly to his body. He didn't seem to notice Ztar standing there.

"Archangel?"

Archangel turned to Ztar. Eyes that danced with angry fire when Archangel was presented to him nearly a standard year ago had become void of life. Even the blue was dull as if reflecting the soul's desolation. And the face holding those lifeless eyes looked hollow and unwell.

'Why did I let this go on so long?' he reprimanded himself. 'What you've put this being of the skies through is cruelty beyond words. High time you put your needs aside and make his a higher priority.'

Ztar sat down facing his companion. "My Archangel, I wish that I was able to provide what you need, but I cannot – not aboard Mi-Lartui." Ztar reached out and touched a cheek tenderly. "I can't watch you suffer anymore, so I'm sending you home." Ztar felt tears fill his eyes. Thinking it was one thing; saying he was letting Archangel go, made it too real.

His mind rushed through the past few months. He and the Human had fallen into a comfortable routine despite the stresses and pressures of war. Archangel steadied and calmed him. In some inexplicable way, the Human had caged the beast within that had nearly devoured Ztar's soul. Gone was the rage that drove him to take regardless of the cost. He still wanted Archangel – still needed him desperately, but he wished to hold tenderly, to give pleasure, to show the man how much he meant to him.

Their pairing had come far from those first tumultuous weeks. Archangel still loathed him; that pained Ztar, but empathic senses revealed anger and hatred had dulled after a year together. Archangel still only gave what was required and no more, and Ztar took that gratefully as it was as much as he could reasonably expect. Thus, the two men found an equilibrium in their asymmetrical relationship.

But he needed to let his Archangel go…for a while at least. And it tore open Ztar's heart.

Warren's mind struggled to grasp the meaning of the words. "As in home to Earth?" He couldn't believe that could be what Ztar meant.

"Yes, my Archangel. Home to Earth. Immediately. Until the war is over or it's safe enough for you to rejoin me."

When comprehension hit him, Warren was nearly swept under by a tidal wave of relief and joy. Home! To be free – the open sky – his friends – family – his life! He didn't care if it would only be until the end of the war, he'd take what he could get. Temporary freedom was better than none. It could be months, years before Ztar would return. Maybe Ztar would never return. Warren could only pray it would be so.

His soul rejoiced, but only for a few precious moments. Then the realization smacked that he'd be returning under a cloud of having been Ztar's whore. He'd spent a year lying with the alien every night, providing sexual satiety. Nothing more than a prostitute who took payment in the form of Earth's safety. The embarrassment, the shame, guilt – the emotions sickened him.

'So what happened the past year?' they would ask. 'Let's see…learned the Turzent language, saw many amazing worlds, and – oh, yea, had sex with the Emperor every night.' He knew that wasn't reality, but it's the way it would feel to him. The looks, the whispers, and speculation. They'd wonder just how far he'd fallen under Ztar's influence. Had he capitulated? Had he become the willing whore? Dear God, he couldn't do it!

"I-I can't go back!" He snapped, the words erupting almost forcibly. Warren cringed. Did he really just say that? Would Ztar think he wanted to stay? Wrong, wrong, wrong… 'But how can I face everyone? Dear God, what _do_ I want?'

He wanted desperately to be free of Ztar, but Earth was no longer such a desirable escape route. Warren felt lost – home would be too painful, too shame-filled. But where would he go? Ztar had taken _everything_. Now he didn't even have a place he wanted to go to – no place to happily call home. That revelation was like a stab to the core.

Ztar was confused – what was going on? He had been so certain it was what the Human desired. A quick read of the thoughts that raced through Archangel's mind and understanding dawned. Ztar gathered Archangel in his arms, stroking the wings, sending soothing feelings into the other mind.

"There is no shame in what you did. The shame is mine. You protected your world at a huge personal price. If your friends don't understand that, then _they_ are the ones who should be ashamed!" Ztar felt his anger flare at the mere thought of anyone judging his Archangel harshly or with contempt.

"Why did you _do_ this to me, you bastard?" Warren demanded pushing back from Ztar, anger suddenly flaring.

"Because I _am_ a selfish bastard. I want what I want and will not settle for less. And I wanted you, more than anything I had desired in a very long time." Ztar lifted Archangel's chin to see into those glorious eyes that were brimmed with tears. "Archangel, never once did I indicate my plans for you. Unless you tell them, they will not know the details of your time with me."

Warren shook his head. "You're forgetting Xavier's a telepath."

"And he probes your thoughts and memories without permission? I must have misinterpreted what I saw in your mind about him."

Warren swiped away an escaping tear in disgust. He hated it when Ztar saw him weak. "No, normally he wouldn't. Under the circumstances, though, I'm not sure he would hold to that. The security of Earth could be reason enough."

"It is interesting how many virtuous rules are broken when the right reasons are presented."

Warren didn't care to respond – the alien was right.

Ztar inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I have thought this through carefully. Returning you to Earth is in your best interest. Earth is positioned to possibly come through the war unscathed no matter who wins. And, if your Shi'ar friends are truly allies, then Earth has a protector that would give the Commonwealth pause. I rather doubt they have the stomach to rile the Shi'ar, especially while at war with me. If I win this war, Earth also remains safe."

Empathic senses tuned into his companion, Ztar monitored carefully. The man was a jumble of conflicted emotions. He continued after a moment. "I did not tell you, but the Commonwealth demanded I surrender the Earth System to them. I refused, for many reasons – it was then they declared war. In reality, the Commonwealth doesn't care what happens to Earth. Your world was merely an excuse for a war they already wanted. In all likelihood, the fighting will not come close to your homeworld. There is no strategic advantage for either side to do so. As predicted, the battles thus far are nowhere near Earth, the supposed flash point for their war."

Placing a hand on the Human's cheek, the Turzent looked into the crystalline-blue eyes of the unique individual that had melted his very cold heart. "You will be safer on Earth than most places in the Empire, especially if the war goes badly for us. On Earth, you will be with people who care about you. I want the peace of mind that you are out of harm's way, my Archangel, and that you are free to be what you are – a being of the skies."

Ztar dropped his hand and stood. "Now I have a war to attend to. We are already heading to Earth – against my military's advice, I might add," Ztar said with a wicked smile. He enjoyed occasionally disregarding their advice. "We arrive in two more days. In two days, you will be in the sky once again!"

After Ztar left, Warren stayed in his tucked position in the corner of the window seat. However, the defensive position was for an entirely new reason. The dream of returning to Earth didn't match the reality. Instead, he wanted to run the other direction – away from Earth…run anywhere but to people that would expect their old friend back. That person didn't exist anymore.

###

"Let me be _very_ clear, Xavier." The two telepaths were in Mi-Lartui's Imperial conference room, orbiting above the Earth. Ztar stood facing Xavier in his wheelchair, towering above the Human in what was intended to be an intimidating position.

"Please, by all means, Emperor, be very clear," Xavier replied coolly. He was not intimidated.

"He is to remain at your residence, your X-mansion as he calls it. As Archangel's appointed guardian, you are personally responsible for his safety. You are to ensure his physical and mental wellbeing. Should he come to any harm while in your care, the Earth will suffer. If I discover that you have invaded his mind, with or without his permission, Earth's inhabitants will pay the price for that intrusion."

Xavier caught the implications of that last warning. Was Ztar a _telepath?_

Ztar had been reading Xavier's surface thoughts and allowed an ever so slight smirk to appear. Then just to be certain the Human had no doubts, Ztar reached out and brushed his mind.

Xavier felt the power of Ztar's mental touch. With the ship's psyche dampeners working, Xavier was unable to return the favor. Even raising a thin mental shield was difficult within the powerful psy-damp field. Fear for what the revelation meant came next. If Ztar had used his ability to control Warren…

The Emperor continued with his edicts. "He is not to be an active member of your X-men in any manner, nor is he to partake in any other dangerous behavior. Archangel remains my property. When I return, you will present him to me without hesitation. If you are unable or unwilling to meet these terms, I will leave with him now. Do you agree to the terms of the arrangement, Xavier?"

"Does _Warren_ agree with the terms?" Xavier snapped. What manner of man was this Emperor? Warren was not a possession! In spite of telling himself he wouldn't say or do anything to jeopardize Warren's release, Charles began to seethe.

"Archangel is aware of the conditions of his stay on Earth. Do you agree to the terms?"

Xavier noted Ztar said 'stay on Earth,' further indicating the alien did not intend to abandon his 'property' permanently.

"I agree," Xavier submitted, biting back all the things he wanted to say. At least Warren would be home and safe, even if for a while. Perhaps in the interim, they would find a way to free him completely.

Ztar changed the subject suddenly. "I trust you were able to contact the Shi'ar?" Actually, Ztar already knew Xavier had done so. He simply wanted Xavier to say it.

"The Shi'ar stand by as allies," was all Xavier would verbalize knowing Ztar would pull whatever else he wanted from his mind if so inclined.

"Very good. Then our meeting is over. You and Archangel will be shuttled to your mansion. When I next come to Earth, you will receive my mental call. You will have Archangel ready."

With that, Ztar gestured the guards at the door to take Xavier away.

Finally, Charles would get to see Warren. Ztar had not allowed that until the agreement was set. The door to the bay slid open to reveal Warren in his X-men uniform standing next to the open hatch of the shuttle. Xavier drew in a breath – Warren looked dreadful! He appeared older and haggard. Weight loss was obvious. The once dazzling blue eyes were dull and haunted. Warren's hair was past his shoulders and unkempt. And the wings – Xavier had never seen them look so shabby. Even folded in their resting position, he could see the results of neglect. Even the way Warren held himself spoke of a spirit crushed. Yet to someone who didn't know Warren so well, he would still look stunningly beautiful, albeit scruffy. Xavier saw past what most people would not.

His old friend also had a decidedly nervous and uncomfortable demeanor. Not happy to be returning home as Charles had hoped. Dear God, what had the alien done to him? Xavier caught himself automatically trying to reach out to Warren's mind.

'Against Ztar rules!' Xavier reprimanded himself. 'Be careful, Charles.' Not that he would have succeeded – the ship's dampeners worked just as effectively in the shuttle bay.

Xavier fought back the tears. So many tears shed over the past year, but these were finally tears of a different nature. "Warren, my friend!" Charles greeted cautiously as he rolled closer.

"Hello, Professor." Warren knew his tone was cool and distant. It was the best he could muster.

"It's time to come home," Xavier said hopefully. "We are all so very thankful you are alive and safe!"

Warren didn't reply, but turned toward the shuttle hatch. 'Noticed you didn't say "alive and well," Xavier. That'd be pushing it, wouldn't it?' Warren thought bitterly, knowing Xavier wasn't permitted to touch his mind in any way, shape, or form. Ztar had been clear to Warren on the rules of his Earthly visit. And Ztar had been quite explicit that it was only a visit – he would return for Warren when safe to do so.

Xavier's heart fell. 'He blames you, Charles,' he told himself. 'Why would he not? You betrayed him! Threw him to the enemy. How could you have possibly thought the friendship would survive? You have lost Warren a second time.'

Warren settled into the shuttle without another word. He couldn't speak or he'd break down. There was just too much emotion to risk talking. Best to remain quiet and in control, even if it meant hurting Xavier, who was obviously distressed over the cool reception. 'I'm the injured party here. He can suffer a bit while I collect myself,' Warren decided with an acrimony that surprised him.

The shuttle ride to the mansion was made with a lot of silence. Xavier did briefly disrupt the void to relate some happy news regarding the X-men's personal lives. 'Damn, this is awkward,' Xavier thought as he struggled to reconnect.

Warren felt completely disconnected with what Xavier related. It seemed like he was talking about strangers. Such an odd sensation! Life at the mansion was like an ancient memory with little to do with his current life, and he did not want to return to that past. To get pulled back in only to be plucked out once again when Ztar returned would be too much to bear.

When the shuttle landed, Warren was thankful beyond words that no one was around.

Xavier saw the relief cross Warren's face. "I felt you would want a quiet return. Forgive me if that's not the case." Xavier said tentatively.

"This works," Warren replied.

As the pilot opened the hatch, Warren moved to it quickly. Without looking back at Xavier, he told him, "I will return – don't be concerned."

With that, Warren took to the air to leave everything on the ground and to melt into the embrace of the open sky. The suddenness and intensity of feelings and sensations took his breath away. Tears of liberation raced down his face in the wind. His soul had been starving and now it was being fed. His entire body vibrated in relief so deep it was beyond what he could express.

Xavier exited the shuttle with assistance from the guard. Mentally, he ordered everyone to remain inside. He sat alone in the mansion's garden, waiting for the X-man's return, and silently wept.

Warren took joy in the density of the Earth's air and the specific intensity of her gravity. He bathed in the particular color spectrum of Earth's sun; detected the nearly imperceptible magnetic currents that passed through his body. Once again, he could pinpoint by magnetic flows alone the direction of his Long Island mansion, the penthouse in New York City, his distant mountain aerie. His body recognized the planet by all its comforting sensations. At long last, everything felt correct, down to the smell of the air. This was home – this is where he was meant to be. Every molecule of his being rejoiced in the rightness of this one small blue, white, and green world. If only emotionally he felt likewise.

As the initial euphoria passed, different emotions gripped him. Warren did _not_ want to confront his old life. He _did_ want to be away from Ztar. As he flew ever higher, he wondered what he really desired. A different planet would be a good start. Perhaps one of the beautiful worlds they had stopped at during a side trip. A place where no one knew him or his connection with Ztar. Where he could be free to do as he pleased, when he pleased. Away from the responsibility for the continued safety of oblivious billions. Away from the nightly demands of the Emperor.

'But once again, I've got no choice. Ztar makes all the decisions and I'm to do as commanded. No choice. No voice!' Anger mounted.

Higher he flew until it was very cold and even he had difficulty breathing. The sudden exertion after so long without flying caused him to be winded more quickly than normal. Sucking ice cold air into his lungs made them hurt, but the pain felt good in an odd way. He hung in place gazing down upon the Earth. The planet was spared Ztar's cruel hand by his sacrifice…by Warren Worthington the Third being prostituted to the Turzent Emperor. He looked at the world below with disgust…a world that looked the other way while he suffered. Resentment congealed. "Damn you all!" he shouted into the biting air.

Then his better side rushed up to challenge. 'That's not entirely fair,' it argued. 'Very few on Earth even know the Turzents exist. Besides, even the few involved in the betrayal, did they know what Ztar intended? He never revealed his plans, Worthington – at least that's what he told you.'

Warren shuddered from the cold and inner conflict. 'Xavier, the Shi'ar – how could they believe it was anything _good?_ What they thought doesn't matter. I lost everything. Bottom line – you, Warren Worthington the Third, are simply chattel. Your losses were inconsequential. _I'm _inconsequential!'

With an angry downbeat and sideways slice, he whipped around in tight circles that echoed the swirling emotions.

'It was too easy to toss away a single mutant to the enemy. A no-brainer, really. Save the world at such a small price. What a bargain Earth got!' Warren's heart hardened to everyone involved, more so than during all the long, agonizing months on the Mi-Lartui. Cold sunk to the bone, cooling the fire in his veins. The frantic circles loosen as he let anger spin off. 'Remember, flyboy, you're only here for a visit. Enjoy the break while you can. Ztar will be back unless you're lucky enough that he's killed or loses.'

Warren descended to a warmer level and forced himself to give up maddening contemplation and to enjoy the precious, albeit limited and transient, freedom. He glided and swooped and finally lost himself to the sky. Many hours later with evening approaching, Warren alighted outside the mansion. As he approached the back door, he spied Xavier waiting just inside. 'Not who I want to see.'

"I would like to talk, Warren." The elder man came right to the point, but gently.

"I'm tired," Warren answered with more harshness than he had really intended.

Xavier's face and eyes revealed the hurt. "I understand. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Perhaps." Emotionally and physically drained, Warren didn't have the energy for many words. "What room do I have?"

"Your same room. It is as you left it."

Charles' voice sounded tight. Warren momentarily felt sorry for the man, but he let it pass. He was the one who allowed him to be given to Ztar. The bitter pain of that betrayal flared, but what would it gain him if he exploded at Xavier? If Warren learned anything the past year, it was how to stuff emotions. He started down the hall to get to his room and away from his personal traitor.

"The others would like to see you. They are wondering if you'll join us for dinner – just the original group?" Xavier's voice at his back was filled with hope.

Warren kept walking without answering. There were so many things he could have said, but not one would have been pleasant. He felt eyes upon him from doorways and halls as he moved quickly up through the mansion to his suite, but no one approached. 'Xavier's handiwork,' he surmised. 'Cleared my path – good decision.'

Xavier had spoken truthfully about his room. It appeared untouched from what he last remembered. But that was a lifetime ago and he couldn't be certain. Completely exhausted, he crawled directly into bed. 'I'll be sleeping alone!' came the realization. "Alone," he voiced aloud into the pillow. Even the word felt good to say. Within moments, he was in a deep sleep.

###

For two weeks, Warren kept to himself, either in his room, in his sanctuary that was the sky, or away getting his life back in order. He checked on the family business and found it had carried on quite nicely without him. Apparently, he had been extended sabbatical – almost amusing! Charles had stepped in with the excuse, making promises that Warren would return and Worthington Industries' Board should not act in hast. Only a select few knew he had been off-planet. Not surprising, the powerful mentalist was convincing in his reassurances and all was in order on that front. Warren would leave well enough alone there until he felt more up to stepping back into corporate shoes.

On the personal side, Charles had interceded there, too. Estate staff and his private attorney were given the same cover story as the WI Board. His Long Island head butler had put the estate in standby mode, and many familiar faces were furloughed. When asked, Warren said not to call anyone back – regrettably, he would not be staying at the Centerpoint mansion for the foreseeable future. Ztar had been firm on his living arrangements, but staff would never know the reason their employer was residing at the X-mansion.

It was quite convenient that re-entry duties kept him busy…easier to avoid the X-men. And when he dutifully returned each night to their headquarters, he came and went from his private balcony on the backside of the mansion. The small frig and food cabinet in his suite he kept well stocked. Everything he required was there – computer, television, sustenance; no need to step out into the hall of his new prison. Warren had transferred self-imposed isolation from the Mi-Lartui to the mansion. The aloneness was familiar and safe. No one looked at him with inquiring eyes or asked painful questions or expected him to be someone he no longer was. Easier just to remain disconnected. Less agonizing when Ztar returned to reclaim his property.

He knew his old friends desperately wanted to see him, but he ordered Xavier to tell everyone to stay away. Warren had little desire to see any X-man – previous friend or otherwise. Warren had phrased the demand harshly to avoid any ambiguity. The request was being honored. And so, everything worked perfectly. No one came knocking on his door, not even the brash and rude Wolverine who never gave jackshit about anyone's desire for privacy.

No one except Xavier. Through Warren's locked room door, he kept asking to talk. Other days, Warren would find the plea on a note slipped under the door. One time, Xavier actually waited below the balcony and called out as he returned from a flight. Warren kept ignoring and putting him off, but the constant pleading was becoming exasperating. He just wanted to be left alone. Nothing Xavier could say did he want to hear.

Finally, after two weeks of daily pleas, Warren relented. 'Just get this over with,' he told himself. 'Maybe then he'll let me be.' They met in Xavier's study in the early afternoon. The elder man appeared nervous – most unProfessor-like. 'He should be nervous!' Warren told himself. 'Anything I have to say he won't like.' Anger had had two weeks to ferment. Anger was useful – it kept all the other shit walled up….things too painful to feel.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Warren. The transition back to Earth must be difficult," Charles began from his chair situated in front of the large, mahogany desk. Warren had entered and closed the door, but remained near the exit. 'Ready for a quick departure,' Xavier noted. The expression on the winged man was as cold as stone and it cut Xavier to his core.

"You seem to grasp the situation." The reply was thick with sarcasm. 'You have no clue how difficult, bastard,' Warren thought icily. "What do you want?"

"I wish to talk."

Arms crossed and legs slightly spread, Warren made certain his stance was unfriendly. The man before him was no friend. "What do you want to talk about? Politics? Finances? Mutant-Human relations? How about Human-alien relations? That seems to be a specialty of yours." Warren wanted the words to sting. What could Xavier possibly say that was worth listening to?

"I am concerned about you. I know you are angry and have things you'd like to say to me. We need to work through that."

"What exactly do you think _we_ need to work through? _We_ didn't just return from a year of captivity. _We_ didn't have our lives ripped away. Your freedom wasn't bartered away. You weren't declared a piece of property._ You_ did nothing but let the Turzent bastard have me!" Talking was a mistake and Warren was already close to walking out.

The rage behind the words, tone, and body language was blatantly obvious. Xavier wanted Warren to release it. "I don't deny that, Warren, but I would like to talk about what happened and why."

A year's worth of pent up wrath consumed Warren so swiftly he had to suck in a breath. He moved quickly toward Xavier. Fury burned to his core, wings spread as they often did when he was intensely angry and hands clenched into fists. Resembling a bird of prey ready to pounce, he loomed over the chair-bound Xavier, violence held in check by the thinnest of threads.

"You want to fucking _talk?_ To what end? To rid yourself of the guilt at handing me over to the Turzents? You _betrayed_ me, Xavier!" Warren bellowed. "You let the Shi'ar use me as a bargaining chip. I trusted you and you turned me over like so much spare change! How _could_ you? I was your friend. I've walked through hell and back for you God only knows how many times! I thought of you as a father. Yet you gave me up without a fight. The X-men gave me up without a _fight!_" Warren's body shook with rage as he bent down closer to Xavier. "Tell me, was it _easy_ to order me to go quietly with the enemy? Don't make a scene, Worthington," he added, mimicking Xavier's accent. "Go quietly and then the rest of us can put this nasty business behind us and carry on as if nothing happened. _So_ much easier than finding another option, wasn't it?" Warren straightened, snapped wings sharply, and crossed his arms. Pulling wings in, he stood over Xavier to glare down at the man with scathing eyes – daring him to justify his actions.

Waves of loathing and hatred washed over Charles from Warren. It was appropriate for him to be their receiver. The man needed someone to blame and Charles would gladly bear that cross for his friend. He'd had enough practice accepting blame the past year. The X men had not gone easy on him once they found out the price of Earth's freedom. He'd lost two X-men who could not abide what happen. Wolverine, thankfully, had returned. But no one had been harder on Xavier than he was on himself.

"Warren, the Shi'ar – Lilandra – searched for other options. They tried everything, but the Turzents were firm. We were backed into a corner. The Shi'ar did their very best."

'Is that all Xavier can say to justify what they did?' Warren could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"Their very best? How goddamn naïve do you think I am? They took the _easiest_ route. The price was so small. Just one Human – one mutant. No big loss. No cost to them. One small token to guarantee the safety of an insignificant planet far from their own territory. _Bastards!_ Quick, clean, easy. _That's_ why they agreed. Why would anyone turn down such a sweet deal?"

"You discredit their sense of morality. What they agreed to was not easy. Lilandra was devastated."

Warren couldn't believe his ears and threw his arms open, fists to the air. "_She_ was devastated? And you? And the leaders of Earth? Did anyone give one iota what would happen to me? I was fucked over, sold out, given as property to an alien tyrant. Did anyone care how _I _might feel? What I'd go through?" Warren snapped open his wings once again and lean down to the man in the chair, clenched hand very close to Xavier's head. "Mother-fucking bastards – all of you! Everyone single one of you that betrayed me! May you burn in hell!"

Warren backed away and began pacing to release some of the agitation or he feared he would punch Xavier. But he didn't leave the room. The wall built of anger was holding, making him vengeful. 'Xavier wants to talk? Fine. Now he'll have to sit and listen to the truth whether he likes it or not!'

"I tried everything, Warren. You must know that! Everyone and anyone who'd listen – the Shi'ar, the leaders of Earth, the best legal minds on the planet. The Accord is ironclad. No nuances to exploit. No loopholes. The document is airtight in its simplicity of purpose – to obtain and control you in exchange for Earth's freedom. And if the X-men tried to rescue you, Earth would be lost before we could even _find_ you."

Warren didn't really listen. It was all lip service. All an attempt to justify what they had done. To somehow make it not Xavier's fault. To exonerate himself from what he had allowed to happen. Warren refused to let Xavier off the hook that easily. He continued to pace off the desire to slug the man he used to call friend. If Xavier were able-bodied…

"I waited for you. I prayed you'd come for me. Day after day, night after night. Xavier will find a way, I told myself; you just have to hold on. Until I finally realized what a fool I was to think you'd come for me. A stupid, naïve fool!" he lashed out as he paced, both at Xavier and at his own foolishness of when he still believed in a miracle save. "Why would anyone risk a rescue? As long as I did exactly as Ztar commanded, it was business as usual on Earth. You knew that's what I'd do. Rescue served no purpose! Let me rot with the alien and Earth remained safe. That about sums it up, right? That's exactly what everyone was thinking, right?"

Warren trembled as he paced, wrath nearly overwhelming control. He was sacrificed to save Earth. Neat. Simple. His hell was Earth's salvation. His hell – the agony of laying beneath the man who had taken everything from him; the anguish of allowing the monster to ravage his body. Stripped of everything he'd ever known...all he was. Legally declared a non-person. Just so much property to be used as Ztar pleased. The loss and pain and humiliation and shame he endured...

"Did you even bother to ask _why_ Ztar wanted me? Would it have mattered at _all?_ You and the others had to know it wasn't going to be pretty. What did you think he'd _do_ with me! _What?_" Warren bellowed as he strode back to loom over Xavier once again. He wanted to make the man feel small and to accept his guilt.

Charles telepathically absorbed the anger and pain as it poured out of Warren. Raw, intense emotion swamped him. He couldn't speak as his heart bled. That pain was his fault. His one-time student, the man who had fought by Charles' side since he was a teenager, a steadfast supporter who had put his personal wealth behind the X-men on more than one occasion, had never ceased believing in Charles until a year ago. From Warren's perspective, it must seem as though the Shi'ar, Turzents, and Earth conspired against him – all parties agreeing to sacrifice him.

Xavier paled and seemed to shrink in his chair. Warren felt no pity. Did the eloquent Professor Xavier have no words? Of course he did not. What could he possibly say to excuse what he'd done? When Xavier didn't answer immediately, Warren turned away in disgust, unable to look at his betrayer anymore. Two quick paces took him to the door, but then he suddenly stopped and turned back.

"The least you could do is answer my question. You _owe_ me that much!" Warren's voice dripped with loathing.

Xavier hesitated, collecting himself before speaking. When he answered, it was quietly. "We did not know his intentions for you, Warren, and to our shame we did not press the point hard enough. But to be honest – and I know you want that – it wouldn't have made any difference. The Shi'ar would have agreed to the terms no matter what price you had to pay. It was an expedient, painless fix to what they viewed as an annoying problem concerning Earth."

"I knew it! The truth comes at last. A quick and easy fix – fuck them all!" he felt vindicated, but it didn't hold the satisfaction he thought it would. A crack formed in the wall of rage. "Throw the mutant to the wolf and everybody goes about their business. A sweet deal for everyone but the mutant!" Warren seethed. Why had he bothered submitting to Ztar? "I should have fucked over Earth like you fucked over me! What a _fool_ I was!" He drew his wings close as he came to a realization. "No, I was more than a fool. I was a sucker that allowed myself to be used." The crack widen, what lay behind begin to ooze through.

Xavier looked at his old friend. So full of anger. How could Charles possibly reach Warren through it? But a whisper of something else could be heard beneath the anger…a pain-filled cry to be validated? Perhaps an opening there…

"There is no way for me to apologize. I cannot undo what has been done. Nothing I say will help. Just know that I and the X-men know you sacrificed _yourself_ for our sake and the sake of this world." A single tear traveled down Xavier's cheek. He fought to keep his voice steady. "You obviously kept the terms of the agreement or Earth would have fallen to the Turzents. Warren, you have shown me over and over the kind of person you are. You would gladly give your life to save another's. That's why I knew without any doubts that if you were given the choice between saving yourself or the Earth, you would have chosen the Earth without hesitation. And so we allowed you be taken by the Turzents to save our planet." Xavier struggled to keep emotions in check. Warren needed him to do so.

The words further weaken the wall. More cracks. Painful anguish began to rush through. Warren swayed. "But I wasn't _given_ the choice – no one _asked_ me! _You_ never asked me! I was handed over like fucking property! The choice wasn't mine. You forced it on me! I had _no_ _say_…" Warren's voice cracked. He felt on the verge of breaking down and fought desperately for control – for the anger. 'Keep yourself together, damn it! Don't lose it now.'

Even without telepathy, Charles saw/felt the change. He was getting through the barrier of hate. "For that, my friend, I will always carry guilt. But what saddens me beyond words is that only a handful of people out of the millions you saved will ever know what you are sacrificing in their stead." Tears streamed down as his eyes implored Warren's for some sign of understanding.

The words pierced Warren's soul. They expressed what he hadn't known he needed to hear…recognition that he had sacrificed _himself_ – not happily, but willingly, to save the world. He could have fought Ztar and forfeited the planet that had done the same to him, but he had not. He had not turned vengeful. No, he had instead allowed Ztar to do with him as he may to save Humankind. That was no small thing….no small sacrifice. The man he held responsible needed to hear what Earth's freedom cost him. Xavier needed to understand the price! Warren steeled himself for the words to come, nails dug deep into his palms.

"I've tried so hard to hold on! To keep my sanity and some sense of who I am. He's taken everything from me that matters. Everything! I'm not even a person anymore. I'm a goddamn piece of furniture. Just _property!_ No choice – no voice. You can't know how that feels. That's what you and the Shi'ar bargained away, you son of a bitch! My humanity. My rights – my freedom! My _life!_ Now I'm just the man's wh-" he nearly said the word, but cut it off. He couldn't say it, not to Xavier, not to anyone on Earth. 'Dear God, so ashamed of what I've become.'

But that single, unspoken word collapsed the wall of anger he'd built. Shame, loss, and helplessness fell in upon him like an emotional horde, burying the anger. Warren's knees became jelly under the crushing weight and he sank to the floor. Tears welled up. He blinked them back, trying to focus on Xavier through bleared vision and work his voice around the constriction in his throat. "You goddamn bastard! You l-let them do that to me! You _abandoned_ me." He couldn't breathe as his heart pounded painfully against the vise grip around his chest. "I b-believed in you and you- you let him _have_ me!" It was all he could get out.

Xavier rolled close and placed a shaky hand on the trembling shoulder. "I am so sorry, my friend," he apologized in a choked whispered. "I am so deeply and eternally s-sorry." His voice hitched. Charles didn't bother fighting the tears anymore. "On that day, I would have gladly given my life to save you, but Ztar didn't want _my_ life. I never stopped trying to find a way to bring you home. I'll _never_ stop looking for a way to release you from the Accord. I swear to you."

With Xavier's touch and gentle words, the sobs came violently and racked Warren's body. He heard what he didn't know he needed to hear and release came. Like a tidal wave, it inundated him and he was helpless to stop it. Warren put his hands and face in Xavier's lap and cried while Charles stroked his hair to comfort and cried with him.

That long year ago when Ztar trapped the Shi'ar and Xavier into giving him Warren, Xavier guessed the Emperor intentions, he just couldn't quite admit it to himself. The telepath did not need telepathy to read what Ztar had wanted with his most beautiful X man. Xavier was not naïve.

###

_A/N: Can you believe just two more chapters to go? The summer sure has been flying by! _

_Spent quite a bit of effort reworking Warren's return to Earth and hope I've improved the emotions/reactions/fall-out of that event. Let me know what you think. _

_See you for C20 hopefully in a few days._


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Going away for the weekend and made the decision to post the rest of S:R before heading out. Figured then when I'm back home, my sole focus can be on writing the final book in the series. Working title is "Soulbound 2" – waiting on inspiration for a real title! The story is coming in fits and starts even though it is plotted out in its entirety. Perhaps getting S:R behind me will cause my writing muses to kick into high gear on S2. Fingers crossed!_

_And so, here is C20, with C21 quickly on its heels, along with the bonus feature/quasi-chapter C22 containing the "Worlds of the Turzent Empire" and the overall time for the Empire._

**Chapter 20**

Days passed into weeks, and ever so slowly, Warren emerged from under the layers of anger, detachment, and isolation he had buried himself beneath. Life was beginning to become enjoyable was again in fits and starts, and didn't simply move from one pain-filled day to the next. He still spent most days tending to his own business and life, keeping most of the X-men at arms length. Not only was it awkward and uncomfortable, but Ztar's edict demanded he remain uninvolved in their affairs.

But there were evenings spent with his closest friends, Charles and the other original five. Jean and Hank were especially sensitive to his need to slowly reintegrate, and to leave Ztar in the depths of space. Warren didn't know or care to find out what they knew or surmised of his time with the alien ruler, and they never pressed for information that he had no desire to share. The tacit agreement served to preserve what little was left of his dignity.

Nonetheless, Ztar overshadowed Warren's life, casting impermanency on attempts at normalcy and happiness. He lived in limbo. The Emperor could return at any moment. The more time that passed, the more Warren's dread of Ztar's return increased as step by inevitable step, he reattached to his former life. Hope kept him going. Perhaps the Emperor was killed in the war. Perhaps Earth was cut off from the rest of the Empire by the Commonwealth. Perhaps Ztar was simply too busy or had lost interest.

But Warren was pragmatic. Reconciliation with Charles gave Warren a trustworthy individual to appoint as Power of Attorney should Ztar come for him again. Granting Xavier full authority to act in his stead both personally and for Worthington Industries was the perfect solution. It ensured Warren's financial support of the X-men would not be jeopardized, and the powerful telepath would help ensure that no one could attempt to take advantage of Warren's absence and wrest control of the family business. And if something happened to Charles, Hank agreed to act as backup POA. With those safeguards in place and other legal precautions enacted, Warren had done all he could to protect his Earthly life. He prayed those safeguards would never be needed, at least not because of Ztar.

The day Xavier got the mental call was a beautiful early autumn Saturday. Many of the students were taking advantage of the glorious weather for an outing at a nearby park, complete with softball, a picnic, and the general fun of youth. Several staff members chauffeured the students. Other X-men and students were enjoying a day off in the city with various activities. The mansion was quite empty, just a few students and staff remained for some quiet time – a commodity often hard to come by on the estate.

Xavier's heart broke. Was Warren's reprieve over? Couldn't Ztar just leave him be? He'd come so far in the past weeks, contact with the alien dictator in any form could be devastating. Yet the Accord loomed large. Failure to produce Warren would result in immediate hostile actions.

He knew Warren was working in his room that afternoon. When the man opened the door at Charles' knock, he allowed expression break the news. Warren backed away, blue eyes wide with understanding. "_No_…" The word was an anguished whisper.

Charles controlled his own swirling emotions for his friend's sake. "We don't know what Ztar wants yet, Warren. He just told me he was sending a shuttle, nothing more. Perhaps it is not what we think…"

Xavier watched as his X-man steel himself to do what he must. Warren closed his eyes and breathed deeply, working to calm the tremors going through his body. After a several seconds, he opened his eyes. Dullness had clouded the sparkling blue once again.

"How long?"

"About 15 minutes."

Before the shuttle landed, Xavier ordered everyone left in the mansion to remain inside. As the craft settled down on the large, open lawn, Charles and Warren moved outside as Hank and Logan remained just inside the entry at the ready just in case. The hatch opened to reveal one of Ztar's elite guard.

"Archangel, you are to come with me. The Emperor is waiting."

"Am I coming back? How long will I be gone?"

"That is a question for the Emperor."

The answer really didn't surprise Warren. Xavier suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"If there was a way…"

"I know, Charles, but there is not – not yet. If I don't return, you know what to do." With Charles's nod, Warren walked into the shuttle as commanded.

Warren was escorted back to his old chambers. As the door slid closed behind him, familiar feelings of dread and despair swirled to make him dizzy and nauseous. It would have been better to never have gone back to Earth, he believed. Where was Ztar? He'd half expected the man to be waiting in his room. How long would the Emperor keep him waiting? Waiting would be the worse part.

As if in answer to his questions, the door to Ztar's adjoining chambers moved aside and the man entered. He stopped and looked fully at Warren.

"I have so missed the sight of you!" Ztar exclaimed in a voice filled with happiness.

Warren didn't know what else to say except, "How goes the war?"

The alien's expression changed from happy to markedly less so. "It continues with no real winner on either side as yet. But the war is young, and I'm afraid it may be a long one, my Archangel."

Ztar edged closer to the man he longed for in so many ways. "No talk of war in this room. All I want right now is you. I have risked much to see you and I will not waste precious time with talk of fighting and death."

"So you're not here to take me with you?" Warren's heart beat fast with hope.

"No," the man answered simply.

Then in two long strides, Ztar had Warren in his arms and the man's mouth enveloped his. Warren's body responded automatically – the habits of a year of surrendering still there. But the freedom of the past weeks was fresh and strong. Warren caught himself and pulled his mouth away from Ztar's roving tongue. 'Now or never,' he told himself.

Ztar looked down at Archangel in surprise.

"I don't want to do this," Warren was straightforward.

The Emperor was taken aback. "You know what's at risk…"

"I do. You need to understand that what I did with you before, I did to protect my planet. I'm not sure I want to continue that sacrifice." The alien's eyebrows shot up. Warren had promised himself he'd try to free himself if Ztar came for him again – to push Ztar and see if the man would back down.

"I can force you to submit and you would gain nothing," Ztar countered. Although need was great, Ztar wasn't certain he had the heart to force himself upon Archangel. The feeling surprised him – Ztar did not think of himself as very compassionate, but with the Human, with his Archangel…he just wasn't sure anymore.

"Understood. But then it would not be me making a sacrifice for a world that doesn't know or care about what I've endured. It would be you taking from me what you want by force."

"In the end, it's the same."

"Not from the emotional point of view. There's a huge difference."

"You risk your world's future," Ztar reinforced the price of resistance, yet his heart wasn't in it.

"That world bargained away _my_ future."

"You need to make a decision then. Which will it be – by choice or by force?" he said sternly – he could not let Archangel realize his uncertainty for then with certainty he would lose his hold over the man. Ztar watched his companion carefully, using empathy to gage reaction. He did not probe the man's mind for an answer. He would wait. But what had happened on Earth to cause Archangel to consider risking his world? Ztar prayed the Human hadn't become so hardened to his home and its people as to force his hand.

Warren considered the ultimatum. The alien hadn't forcibly raped Warren in a long time. Then again, Warren hadn't fought back in a long time either. "You wouldn't do that."

"Do not test me, Archangel. I am still a selfish bastard who gets want he wants. You are something I want."

Was Ztar bluffing or serious? Warren looked up into the large, dark eyes trying to find answers. He imagined the conversation many times over the past weeks. It had gone pretty much as expected, yet he'd hoped for a different outcome…hoped that the alien's heart had softened just enough to not resort to violence. In his imaginings, though, he hadn't been entirely sure what he would do if actually faced with the choice between obedience and defiance. He hardened his heart and let his loathing of Ztar rise to the surface. The alien had to believe Warren would forfeit Earth if he was going to call any bluff.

"What you're doing is wrong. You know that. I don't believe you would kill innocent people for something as incomprehensibly selfish as sex!" He pushed, testing – all of his senses open to interpret the man's resolve to possess him regardless of the cost, knowing full well Ztar was reading him likewise, probably using the unfair advantage of telepathy. It was likely a no-win situation for Warren, but he had to try.

Ztar opened empathic senses fully to the Human. Coldness was there. Hatred, too. Then a subtle telepathic sweep. Archangel had erected a feeble mental shield and Ztar stepped through it as if it were vapors. 'Archangel, did you truly believe you could fool me?' he asked without projecting.

"It needn't be _people_, Archangel. I can selectively kill just one. That I will do not for simple sex, but for sex with _you _– to feel again what I do with you." Ztar tightened his hands around Archangel's waist. "You are right in your assessment to a point…if you were just another bedmate, I would not kill even one innocent to ensure compliance, but reason and morality are lost to me where you are concerned. I must have you. I will have you. You _will_ give yourself to me or I _will_ do the unthinkable."

How Ztar hated the words for they would only reinforce Archangel's hatred. But desperation left no other options. If the Human sensed any wavering on his part, he'd lose the man.

Warren was losing the battle. Squeezing eyes shut, he thought about everyone back home. Friends that were like family. All the innocent people that had nothing to do with his subjugation. How could he risk any one of them? He'd given his entire adult life to helping people, some of whom hated him for just being what he was, and even that had never stopped him from doing what was right.

If he refused, would Ztar really follow through on his threat? Warren had tried to convince himself Ztar wouldn't retaliate, but it looked like that had been false hope. The self-professed selfish bastard just might do the unimaginable. One shot from Mi-Lartui's weapons into the heart of New York City, or Mexico City, or Moscow would be all it took to kill tens of thousands or a single, lone, innocent victim. Was Ztar _really_ capable of blatant murder for selfish desire? Probably. His hands were already coated with the blood of conquest. Could Warren risk it? If even one life was lost because of him, he could never live with himself.

A defeated sigh escaped and wings drooped with the decision deep down he had known all along he'd make. He reopened his eyes, but couldn't meet the victor's gaze. "I'll do as you want," he finally answered softly, swallowing the surrender along with all the familiar emotions attached.

Ztar's heart leapt with joy! His Archangel was surrendering himself once again. Tilting the crestfallen face upward, he captured the perfect mouth hard to drink in its sweet moistness. His hands migrated to the base of the wings where he grabbed hold tightly to lift Archangel from the floor and carried him to the waiting bed.

"I want our special experience," he breathed into Archangel's ear. "Let me into your mind."

Warren did as Ztar asked and felt his inhibitions and aversions melt away.

The Emperor quickly ripped away the bothersome clothing that stood between them to rediscover the man's body with abandon and revel in the familiar delights. He drank in the smoothness of the ivory skin, the unique silkiness of the wings, and Archangel's scent and taste. "So many long weeks without you!" he proclaimed in elation. He had been parched and the maddening thirst was finally being quenched. A thought formed his mind despite the heat of passion. His need of Archangel mirrored the Human's need for flight. The yearning went to Ztar's core and fulfilling it was essential to his existence. A truth was unveiled in that moment – Archangel was his soul's sustenance.

The revelation moved Ztar to want nothing more than give fully to Archangel…to make the encounter as blissful for his companion as for himself. War with an equally matched opponent had forced Ztar to accept his own mortality. Each day he survived was a gift. Their reunion may very well be the last. If that came to be, Ztar wanted the time together to be special for both himself and for Archangel. If he died tomorrow, he wanted Archangel to have some good memories of their last encounter – something to balance all the painful ones from the past.

Up and down the man's body, Ztar kissed, fondled, suckled, and caressed with reverence. Tenderly, he nibbled on an ear lobe of the one who had somehow heard the call of Ztar's dying soul and answered with sustenance in spite of all the atrocities inflicted. He planted a kiss on the forehead of the being whose mind was a tranquil oasis that calmed Ztar's inner turbulence. He took the sensual mouth into a deep, passionate kiss to drink in its sweetness – the mouth of the man that had asked so little of him the past year. After getting his fill, Ztar nuzzled a path to the chest, brushing lips across where the heart beat. A heart so noble that the Human surrendered to his captor to save a world that bargained him away. Working across the chest and shoulder, Ztar buried his face in the white expanse spread around them…the wings that had freed Ztar from the darkness that had engulfed him.

"My Archangel, my beautiful Archangel," he whispered into their softness.

Ztar's hot breath between the feathers pushed Warren deeper into that lusty haze Ztar was so skilled in creating. With aversions suppressed, the result was always the same. Warren couldn't fight it. Take inhibitions and revulsions out of the equation, and he no longer _wanted_ to resist. The Turzent's bedroom talents took him to levels of ecstasy Warren hadn't known existed. He sank into the delicious sensations flooding body and mind.

Linked mentally with his bedmate, Ztar knew every move that brought delight, and he stimulated all the areas of the lithe form where pleasure could be derived. Wrapping his mind around and through the man's, Ztar gently shared with Archangel his need – not the physical need for sex, but his soul's longing to merge with the one being that had reawakened the better parts of him.

Warren felt Ztar's mind meld with his, but something was different from past times. There was a deep craving that had nothing to do with the physical; an almost desperate cry for…what? Salvation? The wanting was potent, yet there was no demand for it to be filled; just a plaintive yearning so powerful it was almost tangible.

Ztar continued to stimulate Archangel, while still taking pleasure for himself. He was desperate to satisfy the longing that had built for weeks. He was also desperate for Archangel to long for his touch without suppression. Was it too much to hope for? If only the man would just once come to him freely – just one time. If that happened, Ztar wouldn't care if he died the next day. He would die content.

Beneath the bombardment of physical sensations, Warren felt Ztar's want grow. So intense, so…needful, Warren felt he might mentally drown in it. Then something subtle stirred. He had felt that once before, but what and when? Without a conscious decision or knowing how, a passageway of sorts opened. He remembered. It was the same ethereal door that opened when he was on the brink of oblivion a year earlier.

Despite the attention to the physical, their link communicated that something different was happening. 'What?' Ztar questioned. It was like a psychic portal had materialized. Ztar had never sensed anything exactly like it before. A different level of consciousness? Beyond the opening there was…what? He sensed something profound. Whatever it was, it beckoned in the part of Ztar that was deep and old and…_him_. That essence of being accepted the invitation.

A mild shudder ran though Archangel as Ztar's essence slid deeper. _Was_ it an aspect of the Human's mind? Ztar couldn't be sure. It felt more as if he touched energy. His lifeforce? Archangel's _soul? _That shouldn't be possible. Whatever it was, it was pure and gentle and powerful and frightening all at once. It was where Ztar wanted to be. He rested his psyche in that place and satisfied a yearning he did not know he had and could not describe. In that moment, they became one; merged body, mind, and perhaps soul. And Ztar was complete and whole and at peace…and he sighed with bliss. Then he refocused on the physical to worship the body that he had dreamed of so many times during the long weeks of separation.

Warren wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt like their consciousnesses blended. No, it was more than that; it went deeper. Something swirled on a level he couldn't name and flowed to Ztar. The alien was pulling it from him – or Warren was giving it; he didn't know which. No words could describe the sensation accurately. It wasn't painful or alarming. He didn't struggle against it. Then thought was lost to the passion Ztar was building.

With the skills of an experienced lover, Ztar built the sexual hunger steadily in Archangel – not too fast or too slow – so that the man craved ever more. Layering sensual sensation upon erotic pleasure, he increased the intensity with each passing moment. When he had Archangel at the brink of release, he held him there. His companion responded voraciously, almost savagely to Ztar's ministrations. Archangel returned the favors and gave no quarter as Ztar moaned with the delights the Human bestowed.

Warren felt the gate to the special energy open of its own accord and ecstasy flowed through him, and he cried out with bliss that swept away everything else. He floated in it, was devoured by it, and wanted only to stay there for eternity.

Ztar felt he would drown when the tsunami of glorious rapture hit and then washed through him so completely it seemed to engulf every cell and molecule. Ztar's joyful cry joined Archangel's as their bodies were pushed beyond ecstasy. The force of the passionate energy was almost more than could be endured. Then as the initial burst waned, Ztar regained enough control to drive deep inside Archangel, savoring every exquisite sensation. The man beneath him moaned in bliss as Ztar hit the perfect point. Over and over, he sank into the warm depths of his companion until he could hold back no longer and released. Archangel in turn gave his Emperor the last of the rapturous force as he also climaxed.

Drenched in sweat and blissfully weak, both collapsed; bodies beyond exhaustion. Wrapped tightly together, they slept dreamlessly and deeply.

Sometime later, Ztar lay awake next to his still sleeping reluctant lover. That was normal after their 'special' encounters, likely due to the expenditure of whatever energy Archangel poured through them. He looked at the handsomely beautiful body next to him and smiled. He stroked the perfect visage; traced the full lips. Awe filled him at the unique being capable of things Ztar had never heard of in any of the dozens of species he was aware of.

"How do you what you do?" he quietly asked the sleeping man. "How is it that you have changed me without ever desiring to do so?"

When with Archangel, he was free and joyous. Ztar felt more alive and at peace than he could remember ever being. "How can I give you up again?" he questioned quietly. The weeks without his companion were torture. War was hard enough, but facing war without the sanctuary that was the Human was nearly unbearable. "And what we did today – how do you explain that? Something new…something beyond our special times. It was bliss…it touched me – I don't know where! Somewhere deep…essential-" He stopped trying to describe the experience. Words were inadequate, but Ztar felt different. He felt more whole, more right. "You are my Esserru," he whispered.

Archangel simply must stay with him!

'But that would not be wise,' Ztar reminded himself with a heavy sigh. Above all, he wanted Archangel safe; tucked away on his isolated little world in a corner of space no one cared about. The potential prizes of war where all elsewhere. Yes, Archangel's backwater planet was as safe a place as Ztar could manage. He'd continue to hide away his precious companion and shield him from the ravages of war and death that threatened to engulf the rest of the Empire. And so he woke Archangel a short while later and sent him back to Earth. Ztar's heart and soul tore open with pain and loss.

"I will come for you again, my Archangel, if I can manage it," he had told the Human as the shuttle door closed.

It was then that Ztar admitted to himself he loved Archangel to the depths of his soul.

###

Only the Professor was there to meet Warren when he stepped out of the Mi-Lartui shuttle. The door closely quickly behind him and the craft immediately rose and darted off. Warren was glad no one else was around. He knew he looked a mess. Ztar hadn't given him time to do anything but dress before he boarded the shuttle.

Charles watched Warren closely as he emerged, keying in all his senses – physical and mental. The man looked like someone who just gotten out of bed. With a silent groan, Xavier realized that likely was exactly the case. What he picked up nonphysically was a sense of resignation or defeat. The spark that had been had tenuously rekindled over the past weeks seemed gone. Despite renewed worry over Warren's mental state, Xavier would not risk a telepathic intrusion to check the extent of emotional damage the alien caused in a few short hours. One thing he trusted about Ztar was he would follow through on his threats.

"Warren, is there anything I can do for you?" Xavier offered tenderly.

"No, Professor. I just need to go to my quarters."

While Warren showered, he allowed himself to think back just a little to the afternoon with Ztar. Something was different about the Emperor. Through the mental link, Warren sensed an underlying sadness he hadn't before. Not during the sex, but before and afterward. Weariness was there, too. The war was taking a toll. 'Must not be going well,' he concluded.

###

_A/N: Not my usual chapter ending, but consider it the calm before the storm. Meet me at C21 for the tempest!_


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: I ran into a bit of a dilemma with the last chapter of Warren's story. When I first wrote "Sacrifice" back in 2009, it was intended as a standalone novel – no sequels planned. That changed after I finished posting the story, and "Esserru" came into being as a "what if" story. _

_With this re-editing effort, I had a choice to make…keep the original ending or rewrite it to flow into "Esserru." _

_Decisions, decisions!_

_The following is what I ultimately decided. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 21**

Over the following Imperial standard year, Ztar visited Archangel five times. Each time, the hours stolen away were heaven. He lived for the next encounter. For a few precious hours, he was not Emperor, no war raged around him, no generals vied for his ear or guidance, no reports of yet more battles won and lost, warriors or innocents killed. He let the chess pieces of strategy sit for just awhile.

Yet each time he slipped away to the star system on the very edge of Turzent space, he put himself, his ship, crew, and even the Empire at risk. Worse still, he jeopardized Earth and Archangel. But he was desperate to have something for himself; somewhere to lose himself. In between, the longing for respite in Archangel's arms was nearly unendurable.

And so the Mi-Lartui traveled beyond the battle lines and out into unprotected Imperial space. If the enemy knew, they would hunt him down to strike when he was most vulnerable. Secrecy was paramount. Ztar took only one escort ship with him to go as stealthy as possible. Each trip to Earth was a roll of the dice.

His sixth trip that year, the dice came up snake eyes.

Commonwealth ships were waiting, tucked close behind Earth's moon where the Mi-Lartui's sensors were virtually blind. Too late, Ztar's powerful telepathy sensed the whisper of a collective mental presence despite the enemy's psy-damp shields as Mi-Lartui passed by for final approach to the blue and white planet beyond.

"Damn the gods!" he yelled at the holo-image floating at the front of the bridge, and then spun toward Yels. "Captain, it's a trap!"

From behind the moon came a swarm of Commonwealth fighters, weapons blazing. Mi-Lartui shuddered slightly and dispassionately issued her warnings. A heavy cruiser and frigate quickly position themselves to block an easy shot to FLT. The helmsman veered sharply away and nearly into the path of a second fast-moving frigate.

Their escort was quickly upon the new arrival that hugged Mi-Lartui's starboard, firing her full complement of weapons to free the Imperial cruiser of its shadow while Mi-Lartui's weapons did likewise.

Another quick course change sank their ship down swiftly and hopefully into a position for emergency jump to light-speed. It was then that a second heavy cruiser revealed itself from behind the moon, mirroring Mi-Lartui's sinking maneuver and shooting quickly to block another potential escape route. The enemy was penning her in.

"Damnations!" Yels shouted at the forming roadblock. "Helm, get us _out_ of here!" Captain Yels ordered just as the Mi-Lartui took simultaneous blasts from the cruisers sending violent shudders through the sturdy craft despite her powerful shields.

Ztar knew another, more imposing danger lurked somewhere. Fighters meant a battle carrier. 'Still behind the moon?' He stretched awareness out to find what he knew had to be nearby.

Mi-Lartui's weapons master was already striking back. The large holo-display showed two fighters explode in rapid succession. Unfortunately, it also showed the Mi-Lartui's escort ship take crippling point-blank, all-cannons blows from the powerful phase weapons of the two heavy cruisers and both frigates. Whoever was in charge of the ambush obviously intended to take out Mi-Lartui's protection as quickly as possible.

'Exactly what I'd do,' the Emperor thought grimly as he watched enemy vessels block another trajectory Mi-Lartui's pilot had attempted. Without a clear path, they could not jump to FTL. Even at full shields, a collision with another ship would cause massive damage. For the moment, they were limited to sublight speeds. Even at that, the enemy had maneuvered brilliantly and quickly to limit even those movement options. The noose was tightening!

"Captain," the tactical officer broke in. "Tuo-Evom's engine shields are failing – if they take another major hit in that grid-"

The holo image at the head of the bridge finished the officer's warning as the escort took a shield-busting hit that resulted in an explosion that obliterated her engine pod, spewing debris and likely bodies into space. She was instantly dead in space. Ztar's heart sunk. His fault. The situation was all his fault.

Outgunned, surrounded, and under nonstop, multi-ship weapons barrage, the Mi-Lartui shields were quickly weakening. They needed to get out of weapons range immediately, or all was lost. Ztar's mind quickly shifted through possible escape tactics, throwing away one after the other. Then the holo display revealed a small gap forming astern.

"Yels, when I give the word, reverse engines – full power," Ztar ordered.

Captain Yels nodded, instantly relinquishing command to his ruler for as long as Ztar desired it.

The helmsman turned quickly to the Captain, "But _sirs!_"

"Don't question me. Mi-Lartui is a Turzent vessel – her engines will survive," Ztar interceded ahead of his captain, while fervently hoping he was right.

"Yes, my Emperor. Engines ready for reverse, full power."

"Crew alert! Prepare for…impact!" the comm tech warned ship-wide, using the best term she could come up with for the affects of the pending maneuver.

Mi-Lartui took hit after jolting hit while automated warnings blared as shields deteriorated and breaches formed. But Ztar did not hurry. Mi-Lartui was the best Turzent technology could build…she would give him the time they needed. He waited, Mi-Lartui shuddering as the Commonwealth fighters and cruisers homed in on her front and sides, top and bottom. 'Patience, Emperor…patience. Let them move toward our flanks and bow a little more…'

"_Now!_" Ztar yelled.

A violent, stuttering wave ran through the length of the Mi-Lartui as her engines screamed to reverse direction instantaneously. The resulting backward lurch sent flying any unrestrained bodies and objects. The Mi-Lartui sprang backward through the gap as if shot from a cannon. In one move, Ztar had cleared his ship from the cluster of Commonwealth vessels, but at what cost to the engines? He would soon learn.

The tactic brought the Mi-Lartui astern into the outer reaches of Earth's atmosphere. Anyone on Earth observing the heavens in the direction of her moon that day was getting quite a show.

"Helm, 90 degrees port and engage FTL drive!"

With the enemy nearly on top of them once again, the Mi-Lartui's FTL engines sprang to life and she was ready to run.

'We may make it out of here yet,' Ztar allowed himself to hope.

Just as the Mi-Lartui's engines were initiating FTL, the battle carrier appeared from behind Earth's horizon to lay in a strafe along her length and directly across her starboard engine. Weaken shields collapsed under the assault of the powerful weapons of the warship. An explosion rocked the Empire's flagship, more warning alarms wailed. Mi-Lartui listed.

"Sirs, FTL starboard engine and aft shields are gone!" one of the bridge crew members shouted out. "Impulse drive operational at the moment, but we're leaking plasma. Forward weapons remain on line. Hull breaches on decks three and four."

'Then we're lost,' Ztar's thought was a mix of anger, sadness, and regret. It was his desire to see Archangel that had put him and his crew in their dire position. 'Selfish to the end!'

Ztar turned to the communication technician. "Send file ArchangelOne to military command on a secure channel, directly to General Gtar-Cro, and to the other tagged destination. Also send the file to the Commonwealth command ship, all channels."

"Yes, sir."

"Sirs, insertion shuttles approaching," the tactical officer announced, slight fear evident in the tight voice.

Captain Yels approached Ztar, his face showing the pain of defeat and fear for his monarch. "My Emperor, we are going to be boarded. Do you wish us to fire on them?"

"No, Captain. You will prepare the crew and ship for surrender. I will have no more needless Turzent deaths here today if I can prevent it. I am going to my shuttle."

"_Sir?_"

"I have unfinished business on Earth and I intend to complete it. Once I'm clear of the ship, cease _all_ defensive activities and signal your surrender."

"I will assign escort shuttles-"

"No escort." Ztar cut him off.

"But Emperor, if they send fighters after you…"

"That's an _order_, Captain."

Ztar had already telepathically summoned his elite guard to the bridge and when the lift door opened, they spilled out onto the bridge, ready to serve.

"Sirs," the comm tech interrupted. "Main shuttle bay reports our hatch has failed and we're being boarded."

"Internal defenses?" Yels shot back.

"Offline, sir – went down with the last hit. Would have been of limited use – several of the boarding parties are in combat armor."

"They are indeed prepared," Ztar snarled. "Inform security to delay any enemy headed toward my shuttle, but to lay down weapons as soon as I'm away. Everyone else is to surrender immediately." To his elite guard, "We are going to my private bay."

"Let's move," guardmaster Gragne commanded his unit.

Phase weapon fire greeted them as they turned the first corner on deck four. Elite guards returned the welcome, using their bodies to shield the Emperor, but hand weapons had limited effect against the armor-clad storm troopers.

The mutant gathered up his energy. "Let's see how that armor fares against me!" Then Ztar began to shimmer and he commanded, "Down!" The guardsmen dropped instantly.

An intense wave of distortion shot from Ztar's body and slammed into the enemy at the opposite end of the corridor, propelling them into the wall with force, but it wasn't enough to injure the soldiers inside. Ztar followed up with a telepathic burst no armor could block. With screams muffled by faceplates, the enemy slumped lifeless to the floor. Sudden silence filled the hall, but lasted only moments. Sounds of phase volley could be heard from elsewhere on the deck.

"Go!" Gragne barked.

Two guards quickly checked around the next corner. Clear. The group ran down the corridor ever closer to Ztar's shuttle bay.

"Stop right there!" a sudden voice rang out from behind.

Without turning around, Ztar lashed out with his telepathy, driving into the unprotected minds, deep into their thoughts, feelings, and memories. He savagely tore through all that they were. The soldiers crumbled to the floor, holding their heads, screaming their anguish.

Ztar nearly took it to the next level – death – when the image of Archangel came to him. That beautiful creature had shown Ztar that cruelty need not rule him. The telepath backed off and instead induced coma-like sleep in the three intruders. These were just soldiers doing their job. He would not extinguish any more souls in a battle already lost on the way to see his noble-souled companion. It would not be fitting.

Continuing down the corridor, Ztar and his guard fought off two more small groups of intruders. Ztar held himself in check, using his energy field and telepathy not to kill, but to render unconscious. Even with the non-lethal assaults, his head felt like it would explode by the time they reached shuttle bay. Assaulting so many minds and bodies in such rapid succession left him drained and reeling.

Ztar used what was left of his bio and mental energy to blast a path through Commonwealth troops that had breached his private bay from the outside. The effort staggered him. He took a moment to steady himself. "Gragne, you're with me. The rest of you remain here and make sure the enemy does not enter. Once I've launched, you will drop weapons. Understood?" All heads nodded with decidedly dejected looks. "You have served me loyally and with excellence. Thank you," he offered, swallowing back the regret of having forfeited their freedom for personal desire.

Leaving the elite squad to protect their backs, Ztar and Gragne ran toward the shuttle. Just as his over-taxed telepathy warned that one mind was still conscious somewhere in the bay, pain ripped through his body as a phase weapon hit him full force in the back. He fell to the floor as Gragne returned fire. Ztar felt the unarmored Commonwealth soldier's death in his mind.

"Sir, you need medical attention!" Concern filled the guard's voice.

The pain was almost beyond tolerance as a spasm seized his body. Gragne's eyes widened as Ztar sucked in air to remain conscious. Both men knew without examination that the injuries were grave. No one, not even a sturdy Turzent could survive long after a full-force phase blast without swift medical attention. Likely the only reason Ztar was still alive was because of his augmentation. But he would see his Archangel one more time – Ztar would not let dying deny him.

"No! I need to get to Earth," Ztar said between clenched teeth.

Sudden fear washed over Gragne's features. "Emperor, your injuries...they cannot treat you-"

The sound of gunfire erupted beyond the bay door cut the guard off. "Must get to Archangel." He fought blinding pain to sit up, willpower alone keeping his body functioning. "It- it's not an option," he hissed.

Gragne hesitated for two heartbeats; then a look of admiration followed. "Then let's get you to that shuttle and out of here," the guardsmen said urgently but gently, as he wrapped an arm around the larger man to haul him to his feet. "I'm coming with you as pilot."

Ztar groaned and fought against his own failing body as they hurried to the shuttle. "No, you will stay here with your men. Do not argue with your Emperor," he ordered firmly between clenched teeth, but extended a weak mental touch of appreciation.

Gragne got Ztar into the shuttle and over to the pilot's chair. "Now go. Hold the Commonwealth off outside the bay until I've launched. Then you will surrender."

"It has been my deepest honor to have served you, my lord." And the man did as ordered by his Emperor without further objections.

Fighting pain and unconsciousness, Ztar settled into the seat and brought the shuttle to life. He downloaded the landing site coordinates from the Mi-Lartui's navigation computer. Then with the engines ready, he launched the shuttle 'hot' – the backlash causing an explosion in the bay. His only chance was to move so quickly as to not give the Commonwealth forces time to react.

When Ztar's shuttle shot out of the bay at breakneck speed, it caught the enemy by surprise. That gave him precious seconds to dive his shuttle toward Earth. Quickly, several fighters were on his tail, weapons firing. Ztar dodged and darted enemy fire, but pain, shock, and blood loss were already taking their toll. Suddenly, the sensor screen lit up as three fighters were taken out in quick succession by Mi-Lartui's remaining phase cannon.

/ _Yels!_ / Ztar reached out to touch his Captain's mind. / _Were my orders unclear?_ /

/ _I must have misunderstood, Emperor. Forgive me,_ / came the defiant, but poignant thought.

Despite everything, Ztar had to chuckle mentally. By defying orders, Yels had gained Ztar precious breathing room, but just as quickly, the enemy battle cruiser hit Mi-Lartui's port cannon point-blank and the explosion that rocked the trusty ship ensured no more help would come his way.

/ _Thank you, Captain. I have been honored to know you._ /

/ _And I have been honored to serve, my Emperor. _/

His shuttle took two hits in quick succession as it entered Earth's upper atmosphere, pulling Ztar's mind away from the captain. Pushing the shuttle to its limits, Ztar dove into the thickening atmosphere. After several seconds, the two pursuit craft ceased firing, obviously content to simply follow him down.

Damage made steering the shuttle challenging. Ztar's injured body screamed against the jostling and vibration from the steep descent. He activated the navcon to guide the shuttle toward Xavier's mansion as he held on to his seat, gripping the armrest against the agony and blackness that wanted to take him. 'My gods, just let me see him one more time – I beg you!' he silently prayed to gods he had given had nearly forsaken until one year ago.

Riding the bucking shuttle that plunged full hilt to the planet below, he cried out mentally to Archangel. At first, there was no response and Ztar feared he was too depleted to reach the man, but then found the familiar feel of the Human's mind. / _I need you!_ / was all Ztar could manage.

The wounded craft as it started to level out. Before long, the shuttle was indicating its approach of the programmed destination. Ztar allowed the craft to land on its own. Fighting off unconsciousness, he held on as damage made for a rough landing at Xavier's mansion. He felt the winged man nearing – he would see his Archangel one last time.

###

Desperation and urgency filled Ztar's mental cry – he was in dire trouble. Exactly what that trouble was, Warren did not know. Pumping wings hard to get to the mansion as quickly as possible, he reached the estate just as an Imperial shuttle was coming in for landing. Burn marks on the exterior told Warren that there had been fire play. Then he spied the two other craft coming in hot. Super keen eyesight made out identification symbols and they weren't Turzent.

/ _Professor!_ / Warren shouted his projection to Xavier. He immediately felt Xavier's mind for the first time in two years. / _We have trouble!_ /

/ _Warren?_ / Xavier questioned with surprise.

/ _Ztar's shuttle is landing and two possible enemy shuttles are in pursuit._ / Xavier's mind quickly retracted.

Seconds after the craft set down, Ztar stumbled out and collapsed to the ground. Warren landed next to him as the pursuing vehicles landed. Their doors quickly opened and armed soldiers spilled out.

At the same moment, X-men erupted from several points of the mansion ready for a fight, but Xavier held them off. The developing situation could be a delicate matter involving two galactic powers, neither of which Xavier wanted to anger unless necessary. Earth would only lose. Neutrality was Earth's best defense at the moment. Unless necessary, the X-men would only observe.

Ztar was obviously gravely injured – blood was everywhere. His breathing was ragged and the dark brown eyes filled with pain, but he was conscious and clutched a small PI in one hand. Warren gathered the Emperor to him. He gently cradled Ztar in his lap as troops surrounded them.

"Release the Emperor to us!" one of the soldiers ordered.

"We're getting this man medical attention first!" Warren yelled back. Weapons clicked to the ready.

"I'm afraid we cannot allow that."

Before Warren could say anything more, Ztar spoke. "It is okay, my Archangel. Let them…have me – I'm dying." Ztar grimaced in pain from the effort to speak.

Warren felt Ztar gather strength as the man looked at his enemy. "I am Ztar, ruler of the Turzent Empire. I call upon the rights due me by my position under Commonwealth law," the Emperor winced again and as a spasm gripped him. Then he continued, holding the PI up in a shaky hand. "This contains several legal edicts I have issued concerning my Empire, this planet, and my personal surrender to the Commonwealth. Give it to your battle commander." The soldier took the PI from Ztar's bloodied grip.

Ztar turned his attention back to his companion. "My beautiful Archangel..." Strength…life was leaving him. He brushed his companion's cheek, leaving tracings of blood. "If the…Commonwealth is honorable, my edicts will ensure your planet's independence. Earth…should be safe."

Ztar's body shuddered and he moaned; the hands turned into fists. Warren felt the familiar mind touch his.

/ _You touched parts of me I had forgotten existed. You reminded me what joy is, how powerful gentleness can be. What it means to sacrifice oneself for the greater good. Most of all, I learned how to care about someone other than myself. You made me feel something other than anger and bitterness. Thank you for showing me I was still capable of that. I love you, my Archangel._ / Ztar looked longingly and with remorse at his companion, tears escaping. He'd run out of time to make amends for the horrors he'd inflicted. / _I am so sorry…for everything…_ /

Then aloud, Ztar continued with great effort, gasping for air, "Do not…interfere with the soldiers. You…must maintain Earth's neutral position. I named you Earth's representative to the Commonwealth…and the Empire." Ztar's voice grew weaker, more ragged with each word.

"Ztar, what are you talking about?" Warren was confused.

The soldier in charge began to say that time was up, but Xavier exerted mental control over him and the others. They stood silently in place. He doubted Earth's safety would be jeopardized by a little mindblock.

Ztar drew in a shaky breath. "My ship has…downloaded the edicts and other information to the mansion's computer. The file is ArchangelOne." The man took a sharp inhale and shuddered violently. / _Read it and you will understand. _/ Ztar then telepathed the key points about Earth's new legal status. / _In case things go badly with the soldiers._ /

Ztar's body convulsed, and he hissed. Through the link that was in place between them, Warren could feel the searing pain, the man's body shutting down. Warren wanted to stop the anguish, let Ztar die peacefully, in spite of everything that had happened between them.

/ _Open to me, Ztar._ /

Warren closed his eyes and reached down to the passionate energy and pulled, using visualization and memories of their nighttime activities to ignite the right feelings. But nothing happened. Then he felt Ztar's mental presence and a flood of erotic physical sensations washed over him. The gateway gently opened and ecstasy welled up. Then Warren reached into that quiet place in his mind he had used to quell Ztar's madness after Trapia. He brought the two together, let them intertwine, grow, and emerge. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the man. Warren poured blended energies outward – joy and bliss, sensual pleasure and warming euphoria, soothing gentleness, and tranquility. He offered it to Ztar to wash away the fear and pain of dying.

Ztar took the gift gratefully and smiled at his beloved Archangel.

A gentle, golden glow radiated around the Human. Ztar eyes widened at the vision of an ethereal Esserru above him and placed a trembling hand on the breathtaking visage in awe and gratitude. / _So beautiful…thank you…_ / he whispered in Archangel's mind.

Then the deep brown eyes stilled; the hand dropped. He was gone. Warren let the energy fade as Ztar's mental touch slipped away. In spite of everything Ztar had put him through, Warren's heart was surprisingly saddened at the death.

X-man and soldier alike stood transfixed as the waves of rapture and peace dissipated. There were no sounds – only silence for many long seconds. What they experienced, none had felt before and it left them stunned.

Wolverine was the first to shake off the effects. "Fuck! What the hell was _that?_"

Wolverine's outburst shook the Commonwealth soldiers out of their stupor. "Take the body into the shuttle," the leader ordered after his wits returned.

Warren did not resist when the soldiers snatched the lifeless form from him. He remained seated weakly on the ground while the aliens boarded their shuttles.

The soldier in charge addressed the X-men from the entrance of the shuttle. "This planet is now in our jurisdiction. Consider yourselves part of The Systems Commonwealth." Then he turned to enter his craft.

"No!" Warren said sharply. The Commonwealth commander stopped in his tracks. Warren stood shakily and faced him. "As Earth's legal representative to the Commonwealth, I dispute that statement. If you read the edicts, you will find that Earth is an independent system from the Empire. We are a neutral party in this war. Therefore, by Commonwealth law, you cannot take us into your jurisdiction."

The soldier glared at Warren, but did not argue. He was a soldier, not a politician or diplomat. The matter was best left for others to sort out. He entered the shuttle and the two crafts departed.

As the shuttles disappeared, Warren bent over and placed hands on knees. He was light-headed, likely from the energy he had expended to give Ztar a peaceful passing, he figured.

Xavier was quickly at his side. "Warren, are you okay?" Xavier was still trying to process what it was Warren had done. Whatever it was, the effort had obviously left him drained.

"Just need to sit down."

"Hey, flyboy, what the hell did ya _do_ to us?" Wolverine demanded as Xavier and Warren made their way toward the mansion.

Warren stopped, holding on to the back of Xavier's wheelchair for support. "What are you _talking_ about, Logan?"

Rogue leaned over to Kitty, "Sugah, anythin' make ya feel _that_ good, mus' be illegal!" Kitty snickered.

"I need a shower," Peter said quietly and started toward the mansion.

"Wha'd ya do when ya were _glowin'?_ Never felt nothin' like that before. Not sure I wanna again – makes ya weak!" Logan's expression was caught somewhere between anger and amusement.

'Weak…that's one way of putting it!' Cyclops thought with a mental smirk as he headed inside.

"When I did _what?_" Warren was confused. Glowing? What was Logan talking about? What he had done was between Ztar and him, wasn't it?

"Logan, we'll discuss this later," Xavier said firmly.

Logan let it go. The other X-men exchanged glances. Did Warren really not know what he had done?

###

**Epilogue**

The Professor asked Warren to join him in his study several mornings after Ztar's death. Xavier had thoroughly reviewed document that had been forced into the mansion's highly secure computer system. He was impressed. It was obvious the Emperor fully intended to do everything possible to protect Earth no matter the outcome of the war between his Empire and The Systems Commonwealth.

"Warren! How are you feeling?" Xavier said looking up from the computer display.

Warren wasn't certain how to answer. Ztar's death had oddly affected him and he was trying to reconcile the reasons. Why had he shed tears for the death of his kidnapper and rapist? It didn't make sense. And so he stuffed those confusing emotions down deep with all the other best-forgotten experiences and memories. "Better each day. Is that Ztar's file?"

"Yes. Quite impressive. Obviously, I'm not familiar with either Commonwealth or Turzent law, but it appears that Ztar and his people were well versed in both. The file contains his final edicts and numerous passages and they invoke Commonwealth and Imperial law quite effectively."

"How so?" Warren asked as he sat down in front of the Professor's desk.

Xavier smiled at Warren. It was good to feel his mind once again. Although Xavier did not pry, he allowed himself to read the general emotional state of his friend. Warren's relief over Ztar's death was enormous, yet conflicted, though Warren tried to hide that part. And Charles knew that not enough time had passed yet for Warren to truly believe he was free from the Emperor. It would all still be somewhat surreal.

Then there was the matter of what Warren did to ease Ztar's death. Xavier hadn't experience anything exactly like that before and certainly couldn't easily explain what it was. Not quite telepathic, not really empathic, it was something different. Perhaps akin to an offering up, not projecting out – it was the best description Xavier could come up with. But answers to that were for another time when Warren was stronger psychologically.

"If these edicts are indeed honored by the Commonwealth and the Empire, then Earth is safe by their own laws. Ztar sequenced the edicts in a very precise order. This was not a hastily created document. He must have planned for this possibility for some time." Charles turned the monitor so that both he and Warren could see the file together, which the Turzents had considerately translated into English. "If this holds, Warren, you have quite a role to play in Earth's relations with the Turzent Empire and the Commonwealth."

Warren leaned toward the desk. "What do you mean?"

"It's a lengthy document, so I'll summarize. Ztar's first edict invokes Turzent law and his own power as Emperor. He names you as the Turzent Empire's sole and exclusive representative to all interstellar governments in matters involving Earth."

Warren jolted. "That's…interesting." He felt instant weariness as to what might follow.

"There's much more. In his second edict, Ztar grants Earth its full and complete independence from the Turzent Empire as a _neutral_ world – that's important. It means Earth is no longer part of the Empire nor is Earth a party in the war. With those pieces in place, he cites the Commonwealth war law that binds them to treat Earth as an independent, neutral system and not a "liberated" protectorate. This apparently positions Earth to determine its own future wholly and completely under Commonwealth law. I understand this to mean the Commonwealth cannot simply add Earth to its territory as a spoil of war."

"Exactly. That's part of what Ztar told me telepathically before he died. He said that the Commonwealth could not forcibly annex Earth and still abide by their laws," Warren relayed.

"Next, he cites Commonwealth interstellar war law that binds their military to recognize you as the named sole and exclusive voice of Earth in all matters between a neutral Earth and the Commonwealth during wartimes. That results from his earlier edict naming you as the sole representative for Earth to the Empire."

"Thorough bastard," Warren muttered under his breath to low for Charles to hear, but there was no fire in the words – only mounting unease.

The elder man gave Warren an inquisitive glance before continuing. "Ztar goes on to remind the Commonwealth that under their laws, your representation of Earth automatically transfers to peacetime. In effect, that double secures your position as representative – both under Commonwealth civil law and Commonwealth war law."

"Sounds air tight," Warren noted with a scowl that escaped before he could stop it. "Anything else?" He was growing more apprehensive by the moment. What had Ztar gotten him into?

Xavier hesitated. The telepath had that subtle look Warren was all too familiar with – sensors wide open, but not probing.

"Yes. Ztar's final act was to abdicate the throne without naming a successor. He states that in this way his Court is free to either continue the war under another leader of their choice or to surrender to the Commonwealth."

"I wonder which they'll choose," Warren hoped for surrender, but having a single, enormous galactic power at Earth's doorstep was not comforting. He thought for a moment more. "My being the representative for Earth won't go over. The world leaders will not agree to it and I'm not sure I want the responsibility." Actually, terrified of that kind of responsibility wouldn't be an overstatement. Running a corporation was one thing – representative to two interstellar regimes was another matter entirely.

"You will do just fine," Xavier reassured. "Whether Earth likes it or not, it appears the _only_ representative both regimes can now acknowledge is you, by their own laws. How we here on Earth deal with Ztar's maneuvering you into that position won't be a Commonwealth or Turzent concern."

"I can see the price on my head now!" Warren snapped sarcastically.

"I summarized the edicts. You hold the position of representative _until your natural death_. Ztar carefully crafted your position with that stipulation. There are passages stating what happens should any harm come to you that would render you unable to fulfill your duties. The position of lifelong representative is apparently strictly honored under Commonwealth law. Should it be discovered you met with a suspicious death or injury, no one can step into your position that they can legally recognize. Earth would remain neutral and independent, but unrepresented within Commonwealth space. In one of the passages, Ztar warns Earth that non-representation is a decidedly undesirable position. He cites several Commonwealth laws pertaining to that scenario. If the citings are correct, Ztar spoke truthfully."

"So me or nobody. If I refuse the post, Earth's put into an undesirable position." Anger was rising. 'What did you _do_, Ztar?'

Charles was beginning to feel Warren hadn't been ready to learn of edicts. From the man's perspective, it would be yet another entrapment maneuvered by the alien dictator. Yet sooner or later, Warren had to know, and so he pushed on. "Another passage states that should the Earth choose to become a full member of the Commonwealth, it will be you that holds the Council seat in their unified government as a right of your position."

"Oh, it just gets better and better." The responsibility wasn't something he wanted to be burdened with. Even after death, Ztar was dictating his life. 'Damn you, Ztar!' He got up and started pacing. "What else?" he demanded more harshly than intended.

Xavier paused. Warren was obviously upset. "We can set this aside until later. No one has to know of it for awhile – maybe not until either the Turzents or the Commonwealth return to Earth."

Warren dismissed the idea with a sharp sweep of an arm. "No, we've gone this far. Tell me the rest."

Watching the man carefully, Charles decided to summarize quickly. "The document also states that your position as representative to the Turzent Empire is also legally sound, should they prevail in the war. The rest is detailed legalize. The document is quite extensive. The decision is when to reveal the document to world leaders."

Warren halted abruptly and faced Xavier. "They won't believe it. They'll say it's a sham."

"Likely – until they confront the Commonwealth or Turzents, whenever that might be. But the Turzents and Commonwealth may very well not bother with Earth for quite some time or never at all."

"We can't count on that." Warren's misgivings grew the more he thought about the situation. "What was Ztar _thinking_ naming me as representative?" he exclaimed throwing his hand up and restarting the pacing that helped release some agitation.

"I would guess he was thinking about what was best for Earth's future. You obviously made a great impression on him," Charles opinioned.

Charles watched/felt Warren's anxiety intensify; wings tight to the back and the nervous walking. It had definitely been too much too soon. What was done, was done. Ztar may have had good intentions, but his edicts were another way the ruler had trapped Warren into a position without choice.

As he watched his friend absorb and grapple with the revelation, Charles worried. The billionaire businessman was technically quite capable of handling the position of Earth representative. That wasn't what concerned Charles. No, worry came from Warren's unresolved emotional wounds and questionable mental strength. The psychological injuries inflicted by Ztar added to all the scars caused by others who'd wounded him. The man hadn't reconciled most of those. Buried the emotional pains, yes. Faced and resolved them? Not fully, if at all.

Many times over the past year, Xavier had attempted to persuade Warren to talk about what happened with Ztar. Each time he was rebuffed. That was so like Warren – always one to repress rather than deal with trauma. Just like the man had rebuffed efforts to get him to open up about Apocalypse, Hodge, Callisto, and others in the lineup of those who dealt blow after blow to Warren's body and soul. He wondered how much more his friend could endure and remain fully sane. Charles would never stop trying to help him work through the emotional aftermaths – Warren deserved that help whether he believed he did or not.

Warren moved over to the window to gaze at the sky, wings spreading slightly reflexively. Xavier recognized the stance – the mutant wanted to escape into the air. A memory from long ago flickered through Charles' mind from a time when Warren was a student in class. He'd catch the teenager looking longingly out the window – so wanting to be soaring free. That same look crossed his friend's features now. Charles felt Warren fight the impulse and a different look suddenly clouded the perfect face.

"From Emperor's whore to planetary representative – quite a promotion!" The words spat out harshly toward the heavens.

Xavier was shocked at the bluntness of the disclosure. Warren had not confided what Ztar had required of him. Vaguely implied once, yes. Directly stated, no.

Warren turned sharply toward Xavier as if he hadn't intended to speak the admission aloud. He stared at Xavier with wide eyes as the color left his face.

"I- I'm sorry," Warren whispered, his head lowering. The statement hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Warren sat down unsteadily on the window seat and closed his eyes.

Xavier maneuvered his wheelchair around from behind the desk to his friend's side.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Warren." Charles left it at that. More talk right now would only be words. He simply waited silently next to his old friend and allowed him time as he struggled to maintain emotional control. As they sat quietly, Xavier let the waves of Warren's tumultuous emotions wash over him. Shame, embarrassment, self-loathing all hit Charles' open telepathic sensors and his heart hurt for the man who'd sacrificed so much for Earth's people. Tears sprang up in Charles' eyes.

Warren had paid a price almost higher than death to keep Earth safe. His life and self-determination had been stolen by the cruel alien. Add what Ztar had demanded of Warren physically…Xavier could only imagine what Ztar had put Warren through. A horrifying combination – a powerful telepath and rapist. Earth's freedom had come at a very steep price indeed. There should be no shame, no loathing in Warren's sacrifice.

Warren escaped the feelings that threatened to crush him by going to that all too familiar place in his mind. _His_ sanctuary – _his_ refuge. Despite everything, the alien hadn't been able to take away Warren's source of strength no matter what atrocities he inflicted.

Xavier felt the change within Warren – the raw emotions began to dispel. A quietness welled up and encompassed the mutant. He watched Warren with admiration mixed with apprehension as the man calmed.

Warren opened his eyes and looked at Xavier. He could see the concern. "I'm okay," Warren reassured softly.

Xavier took Warren's hand into his. He wanted to pull his almost son into his arms, shield him from the memories of whatever horrors Ztar forced upon him. If the Emperor was still alive, Xavier would have killed him without regret. But Ztar was dead – denying that vengeance. All Charles could do was lend strength as Warren worked through the aftermath of the past two years.

"Whatever you need, Warren, I am here."

"I know, Charles. I'll be fine." He loved the man next to him – he was both second father and dear friend. How he could have ever thought he hated Charles was beyond understanding. Charles had been as much a victim of Ztar as Warren had. Maybe he should let the telepath help him deal with all the shit life had thrown his way. 'God knows the man has tried – not just the past year, but the past several years. He wants to help, Worthington. It would bring Charles a lot of joy if you let him. Time to do some healing. Time to face your demons.'

With the silent decision made, Warren cocked his head and looked at Xavier with crystalline-blue eyes and a smirk. "How about I get us a pot of strong tea and we go through Ztar's edicts in detail? I want to know exactly what that bastard got me into. And maybe we can talk about some other things as well."

The smile that crossed the entirety of Charles' face warmed Warren to his core. Yes, his decision was the right one.

- Finis -

Sort of…

_**SURPRISE! **_

_I still like Ztar's death scene in the original ending and its ramifications for Warren. In fact, a whole story series could be spun off the second role Warren was forced into by Ztar's edicts. But, as much as I like the original conclusion to Sacrifice, it doesn't lead into Esserru. _

_And so, what follows is an alternate ending. It reboots Chapter 21. __The first part is nearly identical to the Original Concept chapter, but hang in there – it's a whole new wrap-up. While a couple changes take place before the fork in the road, I've marked the splitting point for those of you who want to skip ahead to that. _

_Hope you like! :-)_

**Chapter 21 – Alternate Ending**

**Lead-in to Esserru**

Over the next Imperial standard year, Ztar visited Archangel five times. Each time, the hours stolen away were heaven. He lived for the next encounter. For a few precious hours, he was not Emperor, no war raged around him, no generals vied for his ear or guidance, no reports of yet more battles won and lost, warriors or innocents killed. He let the chess pieces of strategy sit for just awhile.

Yet each time he slipped away to the star system on the very edge of Turzent space, he put himself, his ship, crew and even the Empire at risk. Worse still, he jeopardized Earth and Archangel. But he was desperate to have something for himself, somewhere to lose himself. In between, the longing for respite in Archangel's arms was nearly unendurable.

And so the Mi-Lartui traveled beyond the battle lines and out into unprotected Imperial space. If the enemy knew, they would hunt him down to strike when he was most vulnerable. Secrecy was paramount. Ztar took only one escort ship with him to go as stealthy as possible. Each trip to Earth was a roll of the dice.

His sixth trip that year the dice came up snake eyes.

Commonwealth ships were waiting, tucked close behind Earth's moon where the Mi-Lartui's sensors were virtually blind. Too late, Ztar sensed the collective mental presence just as they were passing by for final approach to the blue and white planet beyond.

Commonwealth ships were waiting, tucked close behind Earth's moon where the Mi-Lartui's sensors were virtually blind. Too late, Ztar's powerful telepathy sensed the whisper of a collective mental presence despite the enemy's psy-damp shields as Mi-Lartui passed by for final approach to the blue and white planet beyond.

"Damn the gods!" he yelled at the holo-image floating at the front of the bridge, and then spun toward Yels. "Captain, it's a trap!"

From behind the moon came a swarm of Commonwealth fighters, weapons blazing. Mi-Lartui shuddered slightly and dispassionately issued her warnings. A heavy cruiser and frigate quickly position themselves to block an easy shot to FLT. The helmsman veered sharply away and nearly into the path of a second fast-moving frigate.

Their escort was quickly upon the new arrival that hugged Mi-Lartui's starboard, firing her full complement of weapons to free the Imperial cruiser of its shadow while Mi-Lartui's weapons did likewise.

Another quick course change sank their ship down swiftly and hopefully into a position for emergency jump to light-speed. It was then that a second heavy cruiser revealed itself from behind the moon, mirroring Mi-Lartui's sinking maneuver and shooting quickly to block another potential escape route. The enemy was penning her in.

"Damnations!" Yels shouted at the forming roadblock. "Helm, get us _out_ of here!" Captain Yels ordered just as the Mi-Lartui took simultaneous blasts from the cruisers sending violent shudders through the sturdy craft despite her powerful shields.

Ztar knew another, more imposing danger lurked somewhere. Fighters meant a battle carrier. 'Still behind the moon?' He stretched awareness out to find what he knew had to be nearby.

Mi-Lartui's weapons master was already striking back. The large holo-display showed two fighters explode in rapid succession. Unfortunately, it also showed the Mi-Lartui's escort ship take crippling point-blank, all-cannons blows from the powerful phase weapons of the two heavy cruisers and both frigates. Whoever was in charge of the ambush obviously intended to take out Mi-Lartui's protection as quickly as possible.

'Exactly what I'd do,' the Emperor thought grimly as he watched enemy vessels block another trajectory Mi-Lartui's pilot had attempted. Without a clear path, they could not jump to FTL. Even at full shields, a collision with another ship would cause massive damage. For the moment, they were limited to sublight speeds. Even at that, the enemy had maneuvered brilliantly and quickly to limit even those movement options. The noose was tightening!

"Captain," the tactical officer broke in. "Tuo-Evom's engine shields are failing – if they take another major hit in that grid-"

The holo image at the head of the bridge finished the officer's warning as the escort took a shield-busting hit that resulted in an explosion that obliterated her engine pod, spewing debris and likely bodies into space. She was instantly dead in space. Ztar's heart sunk. His fault. The situation was all his fault.

Outgunned, surrounded, and under nonstop, multi-ship weapons barrage, the Mi-Lartui shields were quickly weakening. They needed to get out of weapons range immediately, or all was lost. Ztar's mind quickly shifted through possible escape tactics, throwing away one after the other. Then the holo display revealed a small gap forming astern.

"Yels, when I give the word, reverse engines – full power," Ztar ordered.

Captain Yels nodded, instantly relinquishing command to his ruler for as long as Ztar desired it.

The helmsman turned quickly to the Captain, "But _sirs!_"

"Don't question me. Mi-Lartui is a Turzent vessel – her engines will survive," Ztar interceded ahead of his captain, while fervently hoping he was right.

"Yes, my Emperor. Engines ready for reverse, full power."

"Crew alert! Prepare for…impact!" the comm tech warned ship-wide, using the best term she could come up with for the affects of the pending maneuver.

Mi-Lartui took hit after jolting hit while automated warnings blared as shields deteriorated and breaches formed. But Ztar did not hurry. Mi-Lartui was the best Turzent technology could build…she would give him the time they needed. He waited, Mi-Lartui shuddering as the Commonwealth fighters and cruisers homed in on her front and sides, top and bottom. 'Patience, Emperor…patience. Let them move toward our flanks and bow a little more…'

"_Now!_" Ztar yelled.

A violent, shuddering wave ran through the length of the Mi-Lartui as her engines screamed to reverse direction instantaneously. The resulting backward lurch sent flying any unrestrained bodies and objects. The Mi-Lartui sprang backward through the gap as if shot from a cannon. In one move, Ztar had cleared his ship from the cluster of Commonwealth vessels, but at what cost to the engines? He would soon learn.

The tactic brought the Mi-Lartui astern into the outer reaches of Earth's atmosphere. Anyone on Earth observing the heavens in the direction of her moon that day was getting quite a show.

"Helm, 90 degrees port and engage FTL drive!"

With the enemy nearly on top of them once again, the Mi-Lartui's FTL engines sprang to life and she was ready to run.

'We may make it out of here yet,' Ztar allowed himself to hope.

Just as the Mi-Lartui's engines were initiating FTL, a third heavy cruiser appeared from behind Earth's horizon to lay in a strafe along her length and directly across her starboard engine. Weaken shields collapsed under the assault of the powerful weapons of the warship. An explosion rocked the Empire's flagship, more warning alarms wailed. Mi-Lartui listed.

"Sirs, FTL starboard engine and aft shields are gone!" one of the bridge crew members shouted out. "Impulse drive operational at the moment, but we're leaking plasma. Forward weapons remain on line. Hull breaches on decks three and four."

'Then we're lost,' Ztar's thought was a mix of anger, sadness, and regret. It was his desire to see Archangel that had put him and his crew in their dire position. 'Selfish to the end!'

Ztar turned to the communication technician. "Our distress signal has been sent?"

"Yes, sir, but the nearest military forces are 19.3 tona from here," the man answered in a laden tone.

Far too distant to help – a day away. The man who was emperor was heartsick. Desire for Archangel may well have just cost him his empire, and the brave people on Mi-Lartui and her escort, their freedom.

"Sirs, insertion shuttles approaching," the weapons officer announced, slight fear evident in the tight voice.

Captain Yels approached Ztar, his face showing the pain of defeat and fear for his monarch. "My Emperor, we are going to be boarded. Do you wish us to fire on them?"

"No, Captain. You will prepare the crew and ship for surrender. I will have no more needless Turzent deaths here today if I can prevent it. I am going to my shuttle."

"_Sir?_"

"I have unfinished business on Earth and I intend to complete it. Once I'm clear of the ship, cease _all_ defensive activities and signal your surrender."

"I will assign fighter escorts-"

"No escort." Ztar cut him off.

"But Emperor, if they send fighters after you…"

"That's an _order_, Captain."

Ztar had already telepathically summoned his elite guard to the bridge and when the lift door opened, they spilled out onto the bridge, ready to serve.

"Sirs," the comm tech interrupted. "Main shuttle bay reports our hatch has failed and we're being boarded."

"Internal defenses?" Yels shot back.

"Offline, sir – went down with the last hit. Would have been of limited use – several of the boarding parties are in combat armor."

"They are indeed prepared," Ztar snarled. "Inform security to delay any enemy headed toward my shuttle, but to lay down weapons as soon as I'm away. Everyone else is to surrender immediately." To his elite guard, "We are going to my private bay."

"Let's move," guardmaster Gragne commanded his unit.

Phase weapon fire greeted them as they turned the first corner on deck four. Elite guards returned the welcome, using their bodies to shield the Emperor, but hand weapons had limited effect against the armor-clad storm troopers.

The mutant gathered up his energy. "Let's see how that armor fares against me!" Then Ztar began to shimmer and he commanded, "Down!" The guardsmen dropped instantly.

An intense wave of distortion shot from Ztar's body and slammed into the soldiers at the opposite end of the corridor. Bodies flew into the wall behind them, but it wasn't enough to injure the soldiers inside. Ztar followed up with a telepathic burst no armor could block. With screams muffled by faceplates, the enemy slumped lifeless to the floor. Sudden silence filled the hall, but lasted only moments. Sounds of phase volley could be heard from elsewhere on the deck.

"Go!" Gragne barked.

Two guards quickly checked around the next corner. Clear. The group ran down the corridor ever closer to Ztar's shuttle bay.

"Stop right there!" a sudden voice rang out from behind.

Without turning around, Ztar lashed out with his telepathy, driving into the unprotected minds, deep into their thoughts, feelings, and memories. He savagely tore through all that they were. The soldiers crumbled to the floor, holding their heads, screaming their anguish.

Ztar nearly took it to the next level – death – when the image of Archangel came to him. That beautiful creature had shown Ztar that cruelty need not rule him. The telepath backed off and instead induced coma-like sleep in the three intruders. These were just soldiers doing their job. He would not extinguish anymore souls in a battle already lost on the way to see his noble-souled companion. It would not be fitting.

Continuing down the corridor, Ztar and his guard fought off two more small groups of intruders. Ztar held himself in check, using his energy field and telepathy not to kill, but to render unconscious. Even with the non-lethal assaults, his head felt like it would explode by the time they reached shuttle bay. Assaulting so many minds and bodies in such rapid succession left him drained and reeling.

Ztar used what was left of his bio and mental energy to blast a path through Commonwealth troops that had breached his private bay from the outside. The effort staggered him. He took a moment to steady himself. "Gragne, you're with me. The rest of you remain here and make sure the enemy does not enter. Once I've launched, you will drop weapons. Understood?" All heads nodded with decidedly dejected looks. "You have served me loyally and with excellence. Thank you," he offered, swallowing back the regret of having forfeited their freedom for personal desire.

Leaving the elite squad to protect their backs, Ztar and Gragne ran toward the shuttle. Just as his over-taxed telepathy warned that one mind was still conscious somewhere in the bay, pain ripped through his body as a phase weapon hit him full force in the back. He fell to the floor as Gragne returned fire. Ztar felt the unarmored Commonwealth soldier's death in his mind.

"Sir, you need medical attention!" Concern laced the guard's voice.

The pain was almost beyond tolerance as a spasm seized his body. Gragne's eyes widened as Ztar sucked in air to remain conscious. Both men knew without examination that the injuries were grave. No one, not even a sturdy Turzent could survive long after a full-force phase blast without swift medical attention. Likely the only reason Ztar was still alive was because of his augmentation. But he would see his Archangel one more time – Ztar would not let dying deny him.

"No! I need to get to Earth," Ztar said between clenched teeth.

Sudden fear washed over Gragne's features. "Emperor, your injuries...they cannot treat you-"

The sound of gunfire erupted beyond the bay door cut the guard off. "Must get to Archangel." He fought blinding pain to sit up, willpower alone keeping his body functioning. "It- it's not an option," he hissed.

Gragne hesitated for two heartbeats; then a look of admiration followed. "Then let's get you to that shuttle and out of here," the guardsmen said urgently but gently, as he wrapped an arm around the larger man to haul him to his feet. "I'm coming with you as pilot."

Ztar groaned and fought against his own failing body as they hurried to the shuttle. "No, you will stay here with your men. Do not argue with your Emperor," he ordered firmly between clenched teeth, but extended a weak mental touch of appreciation.

Gragne got Ztar into the shuttle and over to the pilot's chair. "Now go. Hold the Commonwealth off outside the bay until I've launched. Then you will surrender."

"It has been my deepest honor to have served you, my lord." And the man did as ordered by his Emperor without further objections.

Fighting pain and unconsciousness, Ztar settled into the seat and brought the shuttle to life. He downloaded the landing site coordinates from the Mi-Lartui's navigation computer. Then with the engines ready, he launched the shuttle 'hot' – the backlash causing an explosion in the bay. His only chance was to move so quickly as to not give the Commonwealth forces time to react.

_**** THE FORK IN THE ROAD STARTS HERE IN EARNEST! ****_

When Ztar's shuttle shot out of the bay at breakneck speed, it caught the enemy by surprise. That gave him precious seconds to dive his shuttle toward Earth. Quickly, several fighters were on his tail, weapons firing. Ztar dodged and darted enemy fire, but pain, shock, and blood loss were already taking their toll. Suddenly, the sensor screen lit up as three fighters were taken out in quick succession by Mi-Lartui's remaining phase cannon.

/ _Yels!_ / Ztar instantly reached out to touch his Captain's mind. / _Were my orders unclear?_ /

/ _Forgive me, Emperor, but I failed to inform our other ships of your command,_ / came the retort, the thought mixed with slight amusement and great relief.

Ztar was confused, but then realized his mistake with a glance to the scanner. It was lighting up with the unique signature of Imperial ships dropping out of FTL, one being a battle carrier that instantly blazed a phase cannon path through the Commonwealth ships surrounding Mi-Lartui.

An indicator lit up on the shuttle control panel – a hail coming through. Through the swirl of physical shock and stunned disbelief, Ztar activated the comm.

"Emperor Ztar, this is Fleet Commander Aggent of the Battle Carrier Sonas, responding to your distress call. I see you are in a bit of a predicament. Please, sire, at your command, may we be of assistance?"

"By all means!" Blackness was closing in and everything became surreal. Ztar knew what was happening, and his hand reached out almost of its own volition to the navcon and entered a vital override. "First, though, I think you best…take control…of my shuttle…" Blackness swallowed the Turzent emperor.

**Epilogue**

Warren never knew how close he'd come to freedom that day. The battle between Commonwealth and Imperial forces just beyond Earth's outermost atmosphere was a closely guarded secret that only the highest in the major-power Earth governments held.

And even fewer surmised the true reason for the fierce battle that raged. Most concluded it was a fight for the Earth System itself between the two warring realms. And when the missive was received by the US government, all it said was that Earth was safe, still within Imperial space, and the Accord remained in force.

###

Augmented Turzent physiology came to the Emperor's aid in his recovery from phase wounds that would have killed most instantly. The best medics ensured that not a scar remained on their monarch's body.

Despite the narrow escape, Ztar was determined to continue visiting his companion, but with appropriate heavy escort from that time forward. He profusely thanked General Rehsaw for the foresight of stationing a covert fleet to remain in close proximity to Earth System, "just in case" as his top military commander and fellow court member had phrased it.

Still, Ztar felt compelled to admonish the man for allocating vital resources so far from the front lines of war. Rehsaw took the dressing down in the spirit in which it was delivered, struggling to suppress a smug smirk. In the end, though, Rehsaw failed to convince the Emperor to stay away from his companion, but Ztar did agree to a permanent military presence in the Earth System for the duration of the war – it had become too tempting a target for the Commonwealth otherwise.

Ztar would never mention the incident to Archangel, he decided. That he, a battle-hardened warrior, was nearly captured by the enemy to satisfy his need of the Human would disclose a vulnerability he didn't even care to admit to himself. And so, Ztar bound those who knew to silence on the incident. Aside from Sukja, the medics, and key personnel, no one aboard Mi-Lartui knew how close they had come to losing their emperor and perhaps the war that nearly fateful day.

And so war continued under the guidance of Emperor Ztar and Warren Worthington III, aka Archangel, remained bound by the Turzent/Earth Accord.

###

When Ztar next visited, the Emperor seemed somewhat different, but Warren couldn't quite pinpoint the change. The sexual hunger was still intense, but laced with something more. What that was defied Warren's ability to define. So he chalked it up to the affects of war.

After Ztar had once again gotten what he wanted, Warren boarded the shuttle to return to the X-mansion. As the craft left the Mi-Lartui, he gazed upon the beautiful blue, green, and white planet he loved – it was pure and simply…home. How many more times would Ztar let him return after his concupiscence visits. How long before Warren would no longer be Earth's inhabitant?

Living with the uncertainty was becoming too much. In that moment, Warren decided an attitude adjustment was needed. In practice, he'd already done everything he could to safeguard his life on Earth should Ztar snatch him back. But in his mind, the situation had remained defined as "_should_ Ztar take him away."

'Need to alter that slightly, War ol' boy. Need to start telling yourself, _when_ Ztar returns for you. He's not growing any less needful or desirous; today reconfirmed that. If the man survives the war, he _will_ come. Just accept it. Back off on the reintegration bit. Let others handle the company like they did the first time. Look for something else to occupy your time – something easier to leave behind.'

Tears filled his eyes at the decision, and he blinked them back. 'No more of those either, big boy. This is just the way it is. You want the world down there to stay free, that's the price.'

He placed a hand over the side window of the imperial shuttle, laying it over the Earth symbolically. "I'll protect you for as long as it takes," he whispered to his beloved home as an errant tear escaped. "I won't let you down."

**- Continued in "Esserru" -**

###

_Author's Final Notes: _

_And there you have it – an ending that properly leads into "Esserru." While the chapter is essentially the same until Ztar is in the shuttle heading to Earth, it no longer mentions his final edicts, so that complication is removed. Of course, after that point, it is an entirely new conclusion to set up the next book._

_Now I'd like to hear your opinion, both of the alternate ending Do you prefer the original ending or the alternate? Love to hear your preference and why! _

_And, if you haven't reviewed the story as yet, your thoughts on "Sacrifice: Revisited" as a whole._

_I invite you to read the next three books of the series – Esserru, Circle Complete, and Soulbound – if you haven't already done so. _

_My heart is filled with gratitude to my faithful reviewers who posted their thoughts and reactions as I uploaded the story…ArtistOfLight, Silberstreif, Louisestarfly. You are dream reviewers and I am so very blessed that you chose to spend previous time reading my book and offering in-depth reviews. You have my eternal thanks!_

_And to the anonymous many from so many countries who pounced upon every chapter nearly the instant it went online – your enthusiasm warms my heart! Thank you so very much._

_If you're reading this many months (or years?) after it was posted, please consider adding your own review. I don't plan on going away anytime soon. You'll make this writer's day by dropping in some comments._

_Thank you to all once again for reading the refurbished "Sacrifice" and sharing my love of exploring misfortune, anguish of the soul, emotional victory, and the strength of the Human spirit. _

_Echo Dancer  
><em>'_When you write from the soul, the pen moves itself.'_


	22. Chapter 22

**Bonus Feature**

_For anyone interested in learning more about the Turzent Empire and its history, this is for you. For me, it is one of many reference documents I developed to keep things straight and to build a foundation for future stories/novels. _

_Have fun exploring the Turzent Empire!_

Standard legal notice: Copyrighted 2011. All rights reserved.

**WORLDS OF THE TURZENT EMPIRE**

**Empire Location: **Mi-Tzanti Galaxy(old Ta'oc for "Emperor's Path"), what Humans call the Milky Way galaxy.

**Number of Inhabited Worlds:** 132 FTL-capable member worlds by ISY 3037 (Imperial Standard Year), plus many other worlds that are pre-FTL or uninhabited but colonizable.

All worlds/systems are listed in order of entry into the realm.

**Ta'oc Systems** – 59 FTL-capable member planets by ISY 3014

**Information formatted as such:** System or Former Realm Name (commonized* species name) (number of inhabited planets – planet names) – brief background info, if any.

Notes: If only one commonized* species name is listed, then all the planets were colonized by that species. Key to symbols is below.

**Ta'oc System** (Turzent) (6 – Turzen, Iant, Roeth, Ztir, Riis, and Gtor) – Turzen is homeworld of Turzent species; the five other planets are inhabited to varying degrees. System named for their star.

**Wynnar-Qxiam++** (Wynnaran) (5 – including Wynnar and Oxiam) – acquisition marked beginning of what would become the Ta'oc Systems realm (ISY 2802)

**Sat'rey+** (Sat'reyan) (2 – Sat'rey, Daq'rey) – Sat'rey is Ztar's birthplace and throneworld, and the Imperial capital City of Yaunra is on Sat'rey

**Djorian-Fior Alliance++** (multiple) (4 – Thael (Thaelan), Baut (Bautan), Djorian (Djorian), Fior (Fioran)) – comprised of previously independent star systems that formed a small collective. The Alliance named after the two founding systems.

**Phagiulu System** (none) (3) – mining colonies only, no breathable atmosphere; rich in key elements needed for modern life. Strategic importance – adjacent to Zramyniam System.

**Jandur System+ **(Janduran) (1) – the system is near in interstellar terms to Zramynian System

Name changed to  
><strong>Ta'oc Empire<strong> (year 2900)

**Ozjaer++ **(Ozjaerian) (3 – Ozjaer, Renjto, Syihr) – Brought into the empire roughly imperial year 2914. Sukja and Atichi's homeworld

**Zramynian System** (none) (4 – Zramynia, Beitor, Rict, and Wol) – permanent mining colonies only, rich in compounds needed for FTL engines. Major strategic importance; large buffer zone between Empire and Commonwealth (at least two systems); the race that had once inhabited the star system is long extinct.

**Tchutchka++** (Tchut) (3 – Tchutchka Centrus, and two other planets)

**Mor Systems++** (multiple) (8 – Alcab (Alcab), Bast (Basti, Ptaka Ptakan), six other planets) – former multi-system alliance. Alcab is Chef Delme's homeworld. Ptaka has feathered flying creatures somewhat similar to Earth's birds.

**Ztar begins military career** at this juncture (year 3001, age 16) at the same time…

**Major advancements in FTL-drive engine, weapon, and force shield technologies come to fruition**

**Themra System+** (Themran, Dreian) (3 – Themra, and twin worlds of Dreian Major and Dreian Minor) – Themra is home of the feared Jezsian trackers, some of who become bounty hunters; Merryth's (Circle Complete) homeworld is Dreian Minor

**Gamas System+** (Gaman) (2 – Gamas I and Gamas II) – Jharda Myrundra grew up on Gamas I, still has home there

**Egatrac Alliance**++ (multiple) (15 – Szechii (Szechaei), and 14 others) – significant war involved to forcibly bring the Alliance into the Empire

**Ztar declares himself emperor**

Name changed to  
><strong>Turzent Empire <strong>(ISY 3014)

Member worlds/systems added to Empire under Ztar's rule: 73 FTL worlds/colonies, plus 137 uninhabited but colonizable worlds with no native sentient beings

**Zorasp Realm+** (Zoraspian) (3)

**Federation of Free Worlds++** (multiple) (13 including Trapia (Trapian) mentioned in Sacrifice; and Saii (Saiin) – Nasty acquisition war. Animosity rose up between the worlds that acquiesced to the Empire and those that kept fighting. As punishment for their continued resistance, several planets turned into labor worlds for the Empire's weapons production machine after the official end of hostilities. Many years later, iron-fisted control was loosened and the people of those worlds began to regain freedoms in exchange for compliance and peacefulness. However, much bitterness remains (victory during 3rd year of Ztar's rule; his first major conquest)

**Arythwae+** (Arythwaen) (1 – Arythwae)

**Ennovy-Eiram+** (Ennovian) (2 – Ennovy, Eiram)

**Tekz Kelz Neutrality++^** (Kelz) (5) (4th year of Ztar's rule) – The little realm resisted admirably. War to the Tekz Kelz people was conducted under a strict code of honor – never involve the ordinary citizen or innocent bystander, as that was a sure road to warrior's hell in the afterlife. As soon as Ztar realized this, he ordered his military to respect that code or face his wrath. The Emperor never lost sight of long-term goals – to come across as barbarians to the Kelz did nothing to gain their respect or acceptance post-war. That policy paid dividends once the peace treaty was signed – Ztar gave them the dignity of a formal document…a first in decades of Turzent conquest. Helping the little system recover from war and treating them with respect marked a hallmark in Ztar's attitude toward conquest. Swords first and swift, then when war is over, extend a hand of dignified assistance.

**Juide-An Mez Dominion++** (multiple) (8 – former multi-system alliance, including Daria (Darian) (added 5th year of Ztar's rule)

**Vjete+ **(Vjeten) (1 – Vjete) – A sparsely inhabited, mountainous world. No native peoples, settled by immigrants. Subsistence living – colonies of extreme retroists, those who believe modern technology is the root of many evils and seek a better life away from technology. (6th year of Ztar's rule)

**Mygra System++^ **(Mygran) (2) (6th year of Ztar's rule)

**Citlec System+ **(Citlecs) (2 – Citlec One, Citlec Two) (7th year of Ztar's rule)

**Mon Collective++** (multiple) (15 – including Mon Genesis^ (Mon), Hydeera (Hydeeran), Cassanian System (Cassanian), and 12 others) – Longest war Ztar fought in conquest. (Surrendered 9th year of Ztar's rule)

**Ayni System** (N/A: colonization planet) (1 – Ayni) – A border world located on the edge of The Barrens, sparsely populated, but with one larger city

**Est'El+** (N/A: colonization planet) (1 – Est'El)

**Raisil Unit**y+ (Raisilian) (7 – Raisil, a'Etyrna) – Raisil Unity consisted solely of planets inhabited by their own species; includes a'Etyrna (resort world where Ztar's island gift called Eriale is located) (10th year of Ztar's rule)

**Auk-Pra enT+** (Auk) (1 – Auk-Pra enT) (11th year of Ztar's rule)

**Paath System++** (Paath) (2 – Paath, New Paath)

**Earth+** (Earthling) (1 – Earth) (15th year of Ztar's rule) **SACRIFICE begins** (year 3029). While Earth is not a full member, it is listed here as reference.

**Etabre Collective+** (multiple) (5) – Joined voluntarily at the start of the Turzent/Commonwealth war

**Mennisa System^** (Mennisan) (3) – Acquired through Turzent/Commonwealth Peace Treaty

**Turzent Empire Protectorates (pre-FTL systems) **– 65 non-contact, pre-FTL worlds. The planet Neu is one of these worlds (featured in SOULBOUND). **Earth** is a Protectorate as they are considered pre-FTL.

**Miscellaneous uninhabitable worlds** – innumerable [defined as having environments too hostile or otherwise of no colonizing potential]

* When a world joins the Empire, whatever the inhabitants called themselves previously is discarded. The old Ta'oc Empire standardized species names to simplify identification. A species is referred to by the planet or star system of their origin. For example, the people from Ozjaer who had previously referred to themselves as Anthe, became known as Ozjaerians. It wasn't voluntary. Emperor Ztar continued that tradition.

**Symbol Key:**

+ Joined the Empire willingly or without significant resistance  
>++ Added through military conquest<br>^ Hotspots of unrest and resistance

**Additional Locales:**

**Parma-Sentois Alliance **(7) – inhabitants called themselves Par-Sen prior to merger with Turzent Empire. After merger, Parmans and Sentiosians. Small realm located adjacent to Turzent space. Joined empire after SOULBOUND ends.

**Mentioned miscellaneous worlds** – Jxpia (uninhabited), mentioned in SACRIFICE; Ymoz (uninhabited), abandoned mining planet near edge of Turzent space toward Par-Sen System, featured in CIRCLE COMPLETE.

**The Barrens  
><strong>Common name for the buffer zone between the Commonwealth and the Empire; in general, an 8-day crossing at the top speed of the very fastest ships; several more days for most ships. A mutually agreed upon layer of space without major inhabited systems or law and an area of smugglers and those seeking to cross between realms illegally or live outside the reach of either regime, yet still have relative access to both. Legal traffic is only by direct authorization through very specific corridors.

# # #

**TURZENT EMPIRE TIMELINE**

Circa Year -5000 The Esha'Aru D'Orito (male) and D'Ousar (female) were stranded on Turzen. They helped a small group of Turzents rise out of the Stone Age. These Turzents were Iant's ancestors.

Year 0 First common Turzent calendar begins with rise of one culture to dominance who called themselves Mtarans. Lead by the military genius named Iant, the Mtarans forged the largest realm the planet had seen. Despite his ruthlessness, Iant's dream was to create a lasting empire. He drew upon the ancient stories of the Esserru and how they raised the ancient Mtarans from the age of stone and bone tools to metalworkers.

Iant used the resources of his vast empire to build infrastructure and to encouraged science and education as he resurrected the Esserru philosophy of thousands of years earlier. Nearly single-handedly, the warrior king raised a large segment of the Turzent race from the depths of poverty and an uncertain future filled with constant turmoil to the unprecedented heights of Turzent civilization.

Some came to believe Iant to be a god or perhaps a demi-god to have managed such a transformation. At the very least, he was viewed by his people as a Turzent who had won the favor of their gods. A planet in the Ta'oc system was later named for him.

The next 2500 years brought ever-increasing advances in all areas – science, technology, engineering, medicine, and the arts. While war and conquest continued to dominate their culture and psyche, it was tempered with the ideals Iant instilled, which had their foundation in Esserru teachings.

Year 2513 Turzents land on their nearest moon

2590 Turzents land on their nearest planetary neighbor, Iant

2779 Turzents become an interstellar race with the discovery of the mechanics of faster-than-light travel. Their expansionistic nature rose to the forefront and a vast interstellar empire was envisioned

2784 First Turzent FTL ship launched

2802 First non-Turzent inhabited star system brought under Turzent control (Wynnar-Qxiam)

2830 Ta'oc Systems realm officially formed (named for their sun)

2900 Ta'oc Systems renamed to Ta'oc Empire

2975 With no heirs, the aging Empress Tzora restructures her government into a more democratic form and turns most of her power over to the new leadership. It is not a popular decision amongst many Turzents.

2977 Retroist movement formed in response to the 'falling away from Turzent traditions under the influence of assimilated alien cultures' they see embodied in the new democratic regime

2985 Ztar born on Sat'rey

3001 Ztar joins military (age 16) to escape an abusive home life

3001-3010 Major advancements in FTL-drive engine, weaponry, and force shield technologies are brought to fruition/implementation by the Turzents, setting the stage for more rapid conquest

3011 Ztar undergoes augmentation, begins plan for revenge (age 26)

**3014 Ztar overthrows Ta'oc government, proclaims himself Emperor (age 29).** This pleases Retroists greatly as they see Turzents returning to their imperial roots

3014 Ettwanae born

3015 Ztar renames Ta'oc Empire to Turzent Empire

3016 Ztar begins extermination of Etagllot

3017 Ettwanae left with Bhenra at age 3

3019 With Etagllot threat over, Ztar begins expansion of Turzent Empire in earnest in response to fears that his empire is too small to defend itself adequately in a dangerous galaxy. The Commonwealth's increasing size is worrisome and Ztar fears having a close neighbor so much more powerful, despite the Commonwealth's insistence on their benign nature.

3019 Jharda Myrundra named Head of Planetary Relations

3019 Ettwanae's mother, T'Qilla, visited Tribo'lu on Jandur as later revealed in Soulbound

3029 **Warren taken by Ztar** – Sacrifice begins

3030 Etagllot begin abducting Humans, Turzent/Commonwealth War begins, Ztar returns Warren to Earth later that year – Sacrifice Ends

**3030-3034 Turzent/Commonwealth War**

3034 Ztar returns to Sat'rey with Warren – Esserru begins

3035 Ettwanae's adoptive father, Bhenra, is murdered; Ettwanae flees Sat'rey – Book 1 Ettwanae begins (not yet written), Warren decides to stay on Sat'rey with Ztar – Esserru Ends

3036 Circle Complete begins, Ymoz kidnapping; Etagllot capture Ettwanae

3037 Warren returns to Earth early in year – Circle Complete ends

3037 Ymoz Trial/Warren returns to Sat'rey to testify very late that year; Jharda tells Ztar she's pregnant after Warren returns to Earth. Ettwanae follows Warren and they meet – Soulbound begins and ends

3037+ Soulbound 2 (working title) begins. What does the future hold?


End file.
